


i'm nobody's but yours

by lets_talk_appella



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Guilt, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Romance, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, Some Humor, honestly it's a little bit of everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-11-24 01:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 121,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18159890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lets_talk_appella/pseuds/lets_talk_appella
Summary: Beca is straight as an arrow. 100%, totally, completely straight. Except for one problem that 100%, totally, completely changes everything: Chloe Beale.Rated M for dark themes, homophobia, masturbation, and eventual smut. Title borrowed from Calum Scott's "If Our Love Is Wrong."





	1. Chapter 1 - Beca's Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not inherently sad, but it’s not a happy fic, either. It’s a life fic, one that focuses on Beca’s difficulties in coming to terms with her sexuality – which she will not label in this fic – as well as depicting struggles that she and Chloe go through in developing their relationship. Themes of guilt, shame, and self-hatred are discussed, as are depictions of homophobic attitudes and comments directed toward several characters. I chose to write it this way because these are real struggles and challenges faced by many in the LGBTQ+ community. I will place trigger warnings in chapters that are more intense or contain slurs and homophobic language. I hope that, by having these issues in fic form, we can explore the LGBTQ+ experience through Beca’s eyes and find strength to face those struggles together, and eventually, be freed. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has shown interest in and support for this fic, and a MASSIVE thanks to amlev/acabellas, because without her it wouldn’t even exist. Stay litty, fam!
> 
> TW: Homophobic slurs/hate language

Beca’s first crush is on Dylan Erickson. They’re in kindergarten, and she likes him because he shares his Oreos with her at lunch. He’s cute, with dark skin, brown curly hair, and chocolate-colored eyes, and he always swings with her outside at recess. He holds her hand on the way to the lunchroom and she likes the way that makes butterflies erupt in her tummy. She’s pretty sure she loves him; at least, she gives him the “I love you” hand sign from across their kindergarten room every now and then.

Everything changes when a new girl, Melissa Simmons, joins their classroom following winter break. She looks a lot like Beca, with brown hair and dark blue eyes, and Beca doesn’t miss the double-take Dylan does when he first sees her. It makes Beca angry, and when Melissa smiles right back at Dylan, her blood boils.

Beca doesn’t like Melissa.

But Dylan does. It isn’t long before Dylan invites Melissa to play with him and Beca on the swings at recess. Beca tries to be a good sport about it, she really does, but the little smirk adorning Melissa’s face as Dylan pushes her on the swings tells Beca everything she needs to know.

Once recess is done, it’s time for them to head to lunch. Beca reaches out a hand to Dylan, expecting him to hold it like always, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to Melissa, leaving Beca to trail behind as the three of them make their way to the lunch room. And Beca tries not to let it bother her when Dylan spends most of lunch time talking to Melissa instead of her, but when Dylan opens his pack of Oreos and hands one to Melissa, Beca sees red.

She stands and shoves Melissa off her chair and down to the gross floor of the lunchroom. She does it because she’s in kindergarten and because she’s pretty sure she loves Dylan, and nothing has ever felt better in her short life. She fully intends to continue to the fight, but then Melissa starts crying and the lunchtime supervisors all rush over, concern written across their faces, and Beca knows she’s in trouble. Sure enough, before she can even blink, she’s being sent to the principal’s office, feeling Dylan’s eyes on her back as she goes.

She’s scolded, but only lightly; they _are_ in kindergarten, and she hadn’t done more than push Melissa. Her real punishment comes after, when she returns to her classroom – lunchtime is over by then – to see Melissa and Dylan sitting together at the same table, hand-in-hand and talking to each other like they’re the only people in the room.

After school, Beca goes home utterly distraught at the apparent ending of her first relationship. Immediately after stepping off the school bus, she flings herself into her mom’s arms. Her mom simply sinks down, wrapping her in a big hug as she cries and chokes out the story. She tells her mom everything, even how she pushed Melissa, needing to get it all out. Her mom only holds her tighter, her fingers running through Beca’s hair as they sit on the curb outside their house.

When Beca is finally cried out, her mom pulls a Kleenex out of nowhere and helps Beca wipe her face. She tells Beca that it’s okay to be sad, but that she can’t let it make her sad forever. When she tells Beca that that kind of thing with Dylan and Melissa happens sometimes, and will probably happen in the future, Beca nearly bursts into tears all over again.

But then her mom says, “I’ll always love you, no matter what,” and Beca smiles, then screeches when her mom lunges forward to tickle her sides. They both fall to the ground laughing until the tickle attack ends and leaves them both straining for air against the grassy ground.

Later, sitting at their kitchen table between both her parents and eating her mom’s homemade chicken noodle soup, Beca can’t remember why she ever cared so much about Dylan Erickson.

 

Beca doesn’t think much about boys for a little while, beyond the occasional realization that they have cooties and are generally covered in some form of dirt. It’s not until she’s in the 4th grade and Nick Walker moves to her school from Michigan that she finds herself thinking that not all boys are bad. Nick is blonde, blue-eyed, and incredibly athletic even for the 4th grade. He immediately becomes involved in every after-school sport Beca’s relatively small school has to offer and already shows promise to become a high school sports star.

Pretty much every girl in Beca’s grade and in the grade below are beside themselves over Nick Walker. If Beca’s honest with herself, she doesn’t really see why. Sure, he’s cute, but the more Beca hears about Nick, the less she likes him. Beca’s more of a reader than a runner, and Nick seems to only talk about sports, sports, and more sports.

She mostly admires Nick’s looks from afar as he “dates” girl after girl in their grade. Her best friend Kelsey shows her a notebook of hers with “Mrs. Kelsey Walker” written in cursive all over the pages. She seems scandalized that Beca hasn’t done the same. So, Beca tries it, but after her second “Mrs. Beca Walker” scrawled near the top of a page, she decides she’s not really that invested and would prefer not to ruin a notebook.

 

When Beca’s in 7th grade, she finally gets her period a week before she turns 13. It feels like everyone else had gotten theirs much, much sooner; Alexis McMahon certainly had. At 13, Alexis looks like a 16- or 17-year-old and is the talk of the school. She’s blonde, tall, and very pretty, with curves and stylish tops and skirts that make Beca’s hoodies and jeans look like trash bags.

It’s no secret that all the boys like her and that most of the girls are jealous of her. Beca wonders sometimes if she’s jealous of Alexis, too; she certainly spends more time than totally necessary thinking about her and looking at her. It’s hard not to, when she has three of her classes with Alexis, one of which is gym class.

Kelsey, still her best friend, is in gym with her too, which is fun. They’re on the soccer unit right now, and Beca loves playing on offense with Alexis and Kelsey. Mostly, she likes to watch Alexis, but she also likes to show off a little; she’s pretty good at soccer, and she’s filled with pride when, during one particularly good play, she gets the assist when she passes the ball to Alexis, who scores a goal.

Alexis smiles at her, nodding happily, and it makes Beca’s chest feel kind of funny and fluttery. She keeps staring at Alexis, even after Alexis turns away to reset in the middle of the field. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until Kelsey steps up beside her and hisses, “Careful Beca, someone’s gonna think you’re lesbo.”

Kelsey’s words sting and Beca flinches away. She doesn’t really understand what Kelsey means, but she knows enough not to want to be called that in front of everyone else. And especially not in front of Alexis. So Beca shakes her head, laughs, and brushes it off, not quite meeting Kelsey’s eyes.

She lets her friendship with Kelsey fade gradually after that without really acknowledging – even to herself – why exactly. She starts to withdraw, not letting herself stare at anyone she finds attractive, boy or girl. She doesn’t want people to assume anything, even though she’s _not_ a “lesbo” at all.

Beca doesn’t let her eyes linger on Alexis again.

 

Beca’s parents divorce when she’s 14. On the day her mom kicks her dad out of the house for cheating on her with one of his TAs, Beca blasts her music at full volume through her earbuds. It’s the first time she uses music to drown out the sound of her thoughts.

She’d liked to spend time with her dad; he’d spontaneously take her to get ice cream with a wink and a “don’t tell Mom,” (which seems ironic now, considering it turned out there were lots of things he didn’t tell her mom) and whenever she couldn’t sleep, he used to sit on the floor next to her bed and hum “Yellow Submarine” by The Beatles until she finally drifted off.

But as she watches Warren – that’s what she decides to call him from now on, now that he’s undeserving of the “dad” title – walk down the driveway and out of her and her mom’s lives, Beca shoves those good memories and warm feelings of her father away and locks them in a tiny box where they can’t hurt her. A strange hollow ache replaces those feelings, opening in her chest and startling her with its emptiness.

As Warren gets into his car and pulls away, Beca’s mom glances over at her, eyebrows drawn together. Beca tries hard to school her expression but knows she didn’t quite fake it well enough when her mom pulls her into a hug and whispers, directly into her ear, “I’ll always love you, no matter what.” Beca focuses on the warm arms wrapped around her, the only secure thing in her life in that moment.

 

Later that year, the movie _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ comes out. Beca and her mom go to the opening weekend together, both dressed in Hogwarts robes (Gryffindor, of course) her mom had found at a secondhand store. Beca’s sure they’re both feeling Warren’s absence, but they don’t talk about it. Instead, Beca loses herself in the excitement of the crowd at the theater and spends her time surveying others’ costumes. She’s not sure if she’s more excited for the movie or if her mom is; she hasn’t seen her mom smile this much since Warren left.

The theater is crowded and she ends up squished between her mom and an older teenage girl. The girl has an annoying tendency to giggle and fan herself whenever Daniel Radcliffe comes on screen – which is a lot. While he may be kind of cute in the right lighting, Beca finds herself more focused on Emma Watson than anyone else. Hermione is definitely her favorite character.

 

Beca doesn’t see Warren on her 15th birthday. There’s a rumor floating around that he’s stopped seeing his TA and started dating someone more age-appropriate. It doesn’t matter to Beca, though. She takes the $50 out of the card he mails her and then throws the actual card in the recycling without reading it. Her mom doesn’t say anything, though Beca knows she sees the card in the bin. The double-chocolate cake she makes for Beca is massive that year.

 

At 15, she gets her first kiss from Drew Metrie under the bleachers at the homecoming football game.

They were sort of dating, she supposes. At least, he’d asked her to homecoming three days prior. The short notice had been annoying, but thankfully, her mom was able to take her to the mall in time for them to find a blue dress that mostly matched her eyes.

The football game is the night before the dance. Beca hadn’t been planning on going to the game, but Drew had insisted. At the game, they sit awkwardly on the bleachers with several of his other friends and their dates. Everyone seems to know each other really well; they talk through most of the game, Drew becoming involved in a heated discussion about… something (Beca doesn’t know or really care), which leaves her to stare at the field in front of her in quiet boredom. She’s pretty sure Drew had forgotten she’s even there. That is, until the third quarter, when he turns suddenly and grabs her hand to lead her down and behind the bleachers.

The kiss is good, she supposes. She doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but it’s still nice. Drew keeps his tongue in his mouth – thankfully – and cups her face gently with his hands. She loops her arms around his waist, and is actually kind of disappointed when he pulls away first.

He smiles at her shyly before they return to his friends on the bleachers. He keeps talking to them, leaving her sitting on the end of the group, but she doesn’t really mind. Her lips – actually her whole body – feel warm and a little tingly for the rest of the game. She does really like Drew Metrie, even though they don’t talk much.

The next night, Drew drives to her house to pick her up for the dance. Her mom insists on taking way too many photos of her and Drew, who’s wearing a suit that’s a little too big for him. The tie matches her dress, though, which is unexpected. Drew helps her down the front steps of her house, even though her heels aren’t _that_ high, and he opens his passenger car door for her, helping her climb inside.

The dance is surprisingly fun, considering it’s being held in their high school’s gymnasium. They dance together and with groups of their friends. It’s really more jumping up and down than dancing, but Beca prefers it that way. The few slow dances that the DJ does play are a little awkward; she and Drew just stand and revolve slowly on the spot. He kisses her again at the end of the last slow song of the night, and again, she finds herself liking it more than she’d expected to.

After homecoming weekend, though, nothing really comes of it. She sees Drew in the hallways sometimes and they always greet each other with a smile and a wave, but nothing more. They only hang out one more time, grabbing dinner one Friday at a local pizza joint, but it’s pretty obvious it’s just as friends. They stay in touch and text occasionally, but that’s it. He doesn’t kiss her again.

 

Just three days after Beca turns 16 and get her driver’s license, her mom dies in a car accident. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to swerve for animals; it’s one of the first things Beca learned in her driving classes. Yet, witnesses to the accident said that’s exactly what Beca’s mom did when a family of ducks tried crossing the highway in front of her.

It’s the worst day of Beca’s life.

The day of the funeral is a close second, though. She hates having to stand there as scores of people file past, telling her how sorry they are. She gets tired of hearing it after a while and does her best to tune it all out by thinking of music she likes, interwoven with her mom’s voice whispering in her ear, “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

The realization that she’ll never hear her mom’s voice again makes her mentally blast her favorite music as loud as she can, trying desperately to fill that hollow ache tearing through her chest, reappeared and renewed, a thousand times worse than when Warren left them. She’s not sure this ache will ever ease.

She moves to live with Warren and his new wife of less than six months, Sheila. They’re only half an hour away, so she doesn’t have to switch schools. Not that that really matters; she withdraws from people after the accident. She blocks everyone out, telling herself she doesn’t care when even the friends she’d been closest to eventually give up on her. With her earbuds in and at full volume almost constantly, she builds a wall between herself and everyone else, using music as a crutch.

Living with Warren again is difficult. It makes her angry, and it also makes her sad because it reminds her of how it used to be. She hates seeing how affectionate he is with Shelia when she so clearly remembers how he used to be like that with her mom.

Sheila “the step-monster” is truly unpleasant. She doesn’t try to hide how much she resents that Beca had come to live with them.  She never says anything in front of Warren, but the glares she often sends Beca’s way are clear enough indication. Beca tries not to let it bother her; the feeling is mutual.

 

Beca’s with Warren and Sheila, trailing beside them in the mall one day when two men holding hands, clearly in a relationship, exit a store ahead of them. The sight makes Beca feel wistful for some reason, but makes Warren’s expression harden and Sheila’s mouth twist. Glaring, Sheila mutters something that Beca doesn’t fully hear, but she makes out the words “perverted,” and “in public.” She then asks, more loudly, which of the men is the “woman in the relationship.”

It makes Warren glance quickly at Beca and away before laughing once. Beca frowns at the tiled floor ahead of her; she doesn’t see humor anything Sheila said.

 

During her junior year of high school, Alicia Harrison – a girl in Beca’s grade – comes out as bisexual. She’s teased mercilessly by her peers, many of whom imply she’s sleeping with the entire student body. Others say she’s doing it for attention and that bisexuality isn’t real. Beca never joins in on the teasing, but she doesn’t stop it when she sees it happening, either.

She makes sure to never mention Alicia in front of Warren or Sheila.

 

Beca’s 17 and a senior when she meets Carrie Lawson.

It’s only Beca’s second day of work at the music store in the mall, but she already hates it. Her boss is an overweight, middle-aged man who always has some sort of stain on his shirt. His eyes linger too long on her recently-developed chest for her comfort, but she really needs the money. She isn’t sure what she expected – it’s not like she could make her mixes while on the job – but spending all day trying to sell CDs to people is somehow worse than she thought it would be.

She’s already been yelled at by two different customers for being too slow on the register, still needs to learn the layout of the store and merchandise, and has had to restock shelves of Justin Bieber three times already, which, ew. People need to learn what real music is.

The only bright spot in her work life is her coworker, Carrie. Carrie goes to the neighboring town’s high school, which is why they haven’t met before. Beca would certainly remember if they had; Carrie is even shorter than her, blue-eyed, sandy-haired, and very pretty. She’s also incredibly funny, kind, and just as into music as Beca is.

They bond quickly over how creepy their boss is and how crappy everyone else’s music taste is. As they get to know each other over the days and weeks, Beca learns that Carrie lost her mom about three years ago to cancer. They bond over that, too. Carrie is easy to talk to; so easy that she becomes the only person Beca opens up to. They text almost constantly and eventually start to spend time together outside of work, too.

Carrie begins to hug her a lot, sometimes even coming up from behind her while she’s at the register and wrapping her arms around her waist and pressing close to her back. Sometimes Carrie will brush her fingertips along Beca’s arm or across her lower back. Beca’s surprised to realize how much she likes the affection; she can’t remember the last time she let someone hug her. At her mom’s funeral, maybe? It’s not like she lets Warren or Sheila touch her, and she’s driven away her friends. It’s been a long time since someone touched Beca, and she’s missed it.

She tries not to overthink it.

But then, suddenly, it’s all she can think about.

She misses Carrie’s touch, Carrie’s presence, Carrie’s voice, Carrie’s perfume. She misses her friend, even when they only go hours or a few short days without seeing each other between work shifts. Carrie calls her “my little DJ,” and that makes Beca’s chest feel funny. Carrie touches her more and more, texts her more and more, sends her heart emojis more often than Beca would have tolerated from anyone else. Once, Carrie steps up behind her and brushes her lips to Beca’s cheek, leaving a burning imprint before spinning away with a laugh.

They’re not dating. They don’t talk about it. It’s just a thing.

Until it isn’t anymore. Carrie doesn’t show up for work one night, and she doesn’t reply to Beca’s texts. When she still doesn’t reply hours later, Beca calls, only for it to go to voicemail. When Beca becomes truly desperate, she tries Facebook, then email, only to get silence in return.

It’s not until almost a week later – a week filled with fear and stomach-churning anxiety – that Beca’s boss bothers to tell her that Carrie had quit. Her parents had heard rumors of Carrie having a girlfriend at her high school and had shipped Carrie away to live with her religious grandmother, without access to her phone or the Internet. Lip curling with mirth as he tells the story, Beca’s boss growls, “Good riddance. Don’t need a dirty dyke in my store.”

The words hit Beca like a truck. She has to hold onto the register for support as the words sink in. The idea that Carrie’s absence is due to her having a – a _girlfriend_ sends the room spinning. It’s only made worse by the realization that she’s more than a little jealous of this girlfriend.

The thought makes something ugly and unbidden rise within her, something she doesn’t want to address now or ever. Beca instantly shuts down that line of thought before it can really form, locking it behind a cement wall where it presses and strains to be freed, but she keeps it restrained. The touches hadn’t meant anything. They had been brought on by emotional vulnerability and shared trauma. They’d been emotionally close; surely it was just natural for them to be physically close? It doesn’t mean anything beyond that.

She isn’t into girls. She isn’t bisexual. She’s certainly not lesbian. Even the word – so often sexualized or ostracized – feels dirty to her. What she feels for Carrie isn’t _gay_ ; they were just good friends. Beca tells herself that over and over again until she believes it, until she’s almost convinced herself. She’s straight. That’s all there is to it. She shoves Carrie forcibly from her mind, locking her into a little box of her own.

She quits her job a few days later. It doesn’t matter anyway, not when she’s graduating so soon and moving to LA (assuming Warren gets over his college kick).

Through sheer force of will, she maintains that she is straight as an arrow and that Carrie – whatever that whole thing had even been – was just a fluke.

 

Then, at 18, against her will and recovering from her past wounds, Beca meets Chloe Beale.

 


	2. Chapter 2 - Chloe's Prologue

Chloe has no idea how many people she’s crushed on. It feels like a lot. It is a lot.

 

There are both boys and girls in elementary school. Eric Sutherland, D’Shawn Johnson, Tyler Robinsdale, Chi Lor. Kayla Henn, Veronica Applegate, Meghan Corothers. She remembers each of them; holding hands with the boys, even “dating” D’Shawn for a while in the second grade. She mostly admired the girls from a distance, but she knows what she felt for them.

She tells her parents and her older brother, Chris, about each and every one of them, which makes them laugh and smile. Her dad calls her a “heartbreaker” even at that young age. She doesn’t quite know what that means, but he smiles when he says it, so she knows it can’t be a bad thing.

 

Middle school passes much the same way. Ryan Gabour, Eric Sutherland (again), Jerome Zettler. Kylie Brenna, Courtney Johnson, Kendra Fink, Cady Morgan. Each hold a special place in her heart. She has classes with Ryan, Jerome, Kylie, and Courtney; she joins volleyball with Kendra and Cady. Everything is very simple.

She doesn’t care that she has feelings for both boys and girls. For her, that’s how it’s always been. She sometimes wonders why she never hears other girls talking about their crushes on girls, or why she doesn’t see it in movies or on TV, but she doesn’t let it bother her. All Chloe knows is that she likes both boys and girls, and that’s okay. She figures that she’ll fall in love with a person’s mind, personality, and soul, rather than the body they happen to come in.

She says this – that she’ll love a person, not their body – to her parents and Chris one night at dinner. A small pause comes over the table, during which her parents exchange the briefest of glances. The moment passes quickly, though, and her mom nods like she’s said something glaringly obvious (which, maybe she has). Her dad smiles at her crookedly and tells her that’s a wonderful way to fall in love. Chris, ever the teenager, continues eating his peas, utterly indifferent to his little sister’s proclamation.

 

She’s pretty sheltered, so it’s not until she’s almost a teenager that the word “gay” even enters her vocabulary. When it does, it’s jeered by Vincent Stridenger at two boys hugging in the hallway. It makes everyone around them turn and look, laughing and jeering. The boys break apart, red-faced and awkward.

Chloe asks Chris about it after school that night, figuring that at 16, he’d understand. His face twists when she asks, transforming into a mask of distaste she’s rarely seen before. He tells her what it means, but she still doesn’t understand why someone would use that term as an insult meant to embarrass others. Chris only pulls her close (she’s amazed; hugs from her teenage brother are becoming few and far in between) and tells her, “It’s okay that you don’t understand why. It just means you wouldn’t do something like that.”

 

Chloe’s first kiss happens when she’s 13, with Danny Nuck at the local burger place. He’d asked her there on a date and she’d happily agreed. It had gone well; they had a lot of shared interests in books, music, and movies. He even paid for their dinner, then had walked her outside. Because they were both too young to drive, their moms sat in their respective cars in the lot to pick them up.

Before Chloe goes to her mom’s car, though, Danny nervously asks if he can kiss her. Butterflies (the good kind) erupt in Chloe’s stomach and she nods. Danny closes the space between them and places a very small, quick peck on her lips. It’s nothing groundbreaking, but she likes how warm and happy it makes her feel.

 

Her second kiss is with Emily Kosma. She’s 14 and at her first high school party with actual alcohol. She doesn’t drink very much, only two cups of UV Blue mixed with lemonade, but it’s enough to fill her with a happy buzz.

Emily Kosma is in choir with her and she’s very pretty. She winks at Chloe from across the room as Chloe refills her second cup, and it draws Chloe over to her like a magnet. They talk for a bit about classes, then music, then books they both like. Chloe notices that Emily doesn’t mention boys, which is a good thing; it seems like all the other girls their age talk nonstop about boys, and that gets boring.

They end up dancing together when the music starts. It’s all innocent, until suddenly Emily’s face is close to hers – so close, that she can feel warm puffs of air against her lips. That, Emily’s looks, and the second cup of alcohol spurs Chloe to lean in and kiss Emily on the lips. She thinks about how soft Emily’s mouth is against her own, and how nice her shampoo smells.

They break apart to wolf-whistles and cheers from their tipsy peers. Chloe ignores them in favor of looking into Emily’s eyes, making sure she hadn’t embarrassed her. As it turns out, she doesn’t need to worry; Emily grins at her before reaching to pull her into their second kiss, and their last.

 

She doesn’t really keep track of who she kisses after that. A few different people, both boys and girls, like always. She’s not overzealous with it; she knows what high schoolers say about girls who kiss (and more than kiss) too many people. But whenever Chloe likes someone, she makes a point to kiss them, as long as they want to kiss her, too.

At 15, she realizes she should probably formally come out to her parents and to Chris. She waits until Thanksgiving, so that Chris is home from college. She’s only a little nervous to tell them because she knows they’ll love her no matter what, but she also doesn’t want them to treat her any differently because of who she dates.

She eventually squeaks it out over the dinner table in a voice that only quivers just the slightest bit. As soon as the words are out, her mom’s brow furrows. Chloe’s stomach drops, only for her mom to ask, confused, “Didn’t you already tell us that?”

Her dad shakes his head and answers for her, “Kinda, but this is the real deal, Cheryl.”

“Oh. Okay,” her mom answers, then adds, “We’re thrilled for you, honey. We want you to be happy. Right, Eric?”

“Of course,” Chloe’s dad smiles at her.

It’s that simple. Chloe grins her thanks and returns to her dinner. She’s lighter than air, filled with love for the people she cares for most in the world and their unerring acceptance of who she is.

As always, Chris continues eating, totally unfazed.

 

Chloe’s grandparents on her dad’s side both pass away when she’s 16. Her grandma from cancer, and her grandpa three days later from a broken heart (at least, that’s what her dad says). Chloe struggles with it; she’d loved her grandparents very much, having been especially close to her grandmother.

Their funeral is hard, and it’s the first time she can remember feeling so miserable that it actually makes her chest ache. It’s utterly appalling to her, that she can feel something like that.

She talks to her dad about it, though, and that helps. He wipes her tears and tells her that’s what love feels like, and that she’s lucky to be able to feel so deeply. Her mom and Chris help too; they hug her, hold her, bring her Kleenexes when she cries. With every day that passes after that, she can feel the ache in her chest lessening. She knows it’ll never go away completely, but she believes that it makes her a stronger, better person.

 

She finishes high school ranked 3rd in her class, proud of her accomplishments and full of excitement for her future. She’ll miss her friends desperately, but she already can’t wait for what Barden University will have in store for her.

Moving out is hard, but her parents and Chris (though he’s going to be a senior at his own university) help her get settled into Baker Hall. She meets her random roommate, Rachel, who seems nice, even if she is a math major (Chloe doesn’t trust people who like math that much). Chloe’s family part after countless hugs and what feels like a gallon of tears, but Chloe can’t remember ever feeling so happy and excited for the future.

 

Joining the Barden Bellas is the best decision she’s ever made, she’s sure of it. Well, she’s sure about her passion for singing and team bonding. She’s less sure about joining a group whose sophomore leader – Alice – is constantly rude to her and the other freshman member, Aubrey Posen.

Chloe is desperate to get to know Aubrey. The blonde is quiet, closed off, and serious in demeanor, but the occasional smile she sends Chloe’s way makes her think she’s not all stone. Still, it’s not until almost a month into Bellas rehearsals that she finally breaks through that hard exterior.

Feeling encouraged by an unusually good rehearsal, Chloe cracks her favorite joke for the group at large.

“Hey, guys,” she starts, getting their attention. “What did the janitor say when he jumped out of the closet?”

She’s met with several blank stares. Alice looks like she’s chewing the inside of her lip to keep from saying anything.

“Supplies!” Chloe cries happily, raising her arms for emphasis. “Get it?”

Only one person laughs: Aubrey. Chloe latches onto that instantly, sending her a beaming smile that Aubrey tentatively returns. She ignores the indifferent looks Alice and the other Bellas send her way in favor of moving to stand next to Aubrey while she gathers her things. They walk out of the auditorium together and Chloe practically forces her phone number into Aubrey’s reluctant hand because, damn it, she wants at least one friend among the Bellas.

Aubrey texts her that night to set up a time to hang out outside of rehearsal. In her dorm room, Chloe breaks into her happy dance in full sight of Rachel.

 

Alice’s rudeness turns out to be a blessing in disguise. She and Aubrey bond over it, though Aubrey has a hard time speaking against Alice’s authority at first. Chloe learns that Aubrey comes from a military family that is filled with both love and discipline. She learns that Aubrey is capable of feeling just as much as she is, but isn’t always able to express it.

They spend many nights talking over large cheese pizzas they have delivered either to Aubrey’s room in Kennedy Hall or to Chloe’s in Baker. Friendship has always come easily to Chloe, and what she has with Aubrey is no different. It’s not long until, during a goodbye hug after one of their pizza nights, Aubrey whispers in her ear, “You’re my best friend.”

 

Chloe dates in college, though not often seriously, as her classes and her Bellas schedule keeps her busier than she’d like. She goes on dates with both men and women, which seems to bother Alice. Chloe doesn’t see why it should bother anyone; it’s _her_ life, she should be able to be happy with whomever she wants. Alice doesn’t get that message, though, and near the end of Chloe’s freshman year, she tries to kick Chloe out of the Bellas. They’re all sitting down in the auditorium, Alice standing at her whiteboards when she says crudely and in front of everyone, “Chloe, if you’re going to be such a fucking slutbag, you can leave the Bellas.”

When that happens, Aubrey immediately stands up for her – literally. She rises from her chair and gets right in Alice’s face, actually forcing her back a step. Chloe can only stare in shock and awe as Aubrey snarls, “Don’t you dare say that to her. It’s none of your business if she dates girls. And you can’t kick her out. That’s discrimination, and I. Will. Tear. You. Down.”

Alice glares back but doesn’t say anything. Chloe’s not sure whether she should cry or cheer; Alice’s words had cut deep (she’s never been called a slut before) but Aubrey’s support of her means the world.

With one final huff in Alice’s direction, Aubrey moves stiffly back to her chair next to Chloe. Chloe glances over to say thanks, but Aubrey seems too angry to notice. Her hands are shaking pretty badly, with one resting on her stomach and the other gripping the side of the seat of her chair.

They never really talk about it beyond Chloe’s whispered, “Thank you,” following the rehearsal. Aubrey acknowledges it with a nod, and that’s that. Alice doesn’t bring it up again, but Chloe notices that Alice doesn’t make eye contact with her anymore after that.

 

Chloe falls in love with Tom Martineau at the start of her junior year. They’ve been dating for almost six months by that point, so she’s not surprised when she realizes she loves him. He’s kind to people and animals, loves music, books, and travel. He holds doors for her and always walks between her and the road. He’s considerate and good in bed (not that she has anyone to compare him to) and he loves it when she sings to him.

She loves him. That’s why it’s hard to acknowledge that their time together is drawing to a close. He’s set to graduate, while she has one year left at Barden. Even though he promises to visit during her senior year, she knows things won’t really be the same. More than that, they want different things out of life. Chloe isn’t really sure what she’s doing after college, but Tom has his next 20 years planned out. He’s planning on joining the Peace Corps and will probably spend the next five years across the world helping underprivileged kids. After that, he wants to work toward an environmental law degree, then settle down and have four kids of his own. While that all sounds amazing for him, Chloe doesn’t see herself in that picture.

They mutually break up about a week before the Bellas finals at the end of that year. Chloe needs to focus on their performance; Tom on graduation. They both cry when it ends, but they agree it’s for the best.

Chloe’s more upset than she lets on; again, she feels more than she maybe should. Tom is the first person she’s been in love with, and while they part on good terms, it still stings to know she won’t wake up with his arms around her anymore. She calls her mom that night and cries into the phone. From the next room, Aubrey hears her and brings her a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream to make her feel better.

Chloe feels so, so loved that night.

 

The finals are a disaster. They lost the Bella win, but more than that, it feels like she’s lost her best friend. Aubrey is inconsolable, even though it isn’t really her fault. Chloe spends almost a week after the incident smoothing her hand between Aubrey’s shoulder blades as she dry-heaves into a toilet from the stress.

It’s easier once Alice moves out of the Bella house, leaving them with the keys and a cruel, “You two slutbags can’t fuck things up more than you already have, so you’re captains now.”

Chloe isn’t sorry to see the last of her.

Unfortunately, Aubrey takes Alice’s parting message to heart. She stops heaving only long enough to look up and say, “We need to win next year. We _have_ to.” Chloe tries not to let it bother her, tries to remember that that’s Aubrey trapped in the body of some possessed, angry, and ashamed girl. She hopes the summer helps.

 

It doesn’t. If anything, Aubrey’s thrown herself into co-captaincy with a renewed vengeance. It’s a little scary.

Chloe knows her senior year is going to be a hard one. With the combined stresses of her classes, finding and training new Bellas, making sure Aubrey doesn’t lose her lunch, and her still relatively recently-ended relationship (though Tom still says he’d like to visit for the occasional hook-up), Chloe decides not to date anyone for a little while. Maybe even for the rest of her college career.

 

Then, at 21, against Aubrey’s will and recovering from a Bellas failure, Chloe meets Beca Mitchell.


	3. Chapter 3 - Beca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added little flashbacks that will appear in most chapters - they're set apart from the rest by divisions in the text, and they appear in italics.
> 
> Chapter is NSFW.
> 
> TW: Internalized homophobia.

It’s Kommissar’s fault.

It’s _all_ Kommissar’s fault. If she wasn’t so tall and blonde and physically flawless and if she hadn’t caused so much sexual confusion, everything would be okay.

That’s what Beca tells herself as she sits around a campfire in the middle of the woods with her fellow Bellas, trying her hardest to ignore how much she wants to reach out and _touch_ Chloe.

If Kommissar hadn’t made Beca stop and think about exactly why certain women tend to turn her brain to mush, Beca would never be in this situation.

“This situation” being Beca looking into Chloe’s eyes over the glow of the campfire and feeling something languid and warm click into her chest, settling in place with a dull thud. “This situation” being her stomach fluttering and heart stuttering more than they ever have when she looked at Jesse. “This situation” being the sudden and terrifying understanding that she’s falling for her best friend.

Shit.

And it’s only made worse – _ten thousand times worse_ – when Chloe starts to sing. Because of course it’s “Cups.” Why wouldn’t it be, when that’s the song that started everything? Chloe knows that, and here she is, singing it as if they’re in some corny, campy movie. It’s an entirely unfair move, because Chloe knows what the song does to Beca.

Well. She knows it’s an important song to Beca.

She probably doesn’t know it’s currently making Beca feel all kinds of things that **a)** she’d never intended to feel for a non-male person and **b)** she should certainly not be feeling for her best friend.

As the chorus fades and the combined voices of the Bellas drift away, dispersed into the woods, Beca realizes four very important things:

First, she realizes she’s fallen for perhaps the most compassionate, kind, and hot person on the planet.

Second, she realizes she’s been in the process of falling for a long time. Years, maybe. Possibly even since the Activities Fair. It’s Chloe. It’s always been Chloe.

The third important thing, as soon as it enters Beca’s mind, shakes her to her core and causes nausea to roll over her in waves. Her feelings – intrusive, unexpected, and undeniable as they are – for Chloe (stronger than anything she had for Jesse) mean that she, at least on some level, is attracted to a non-male individual. She’s attracted to a woman. That means that she’s – well, that makes her… she can’t even _think_ the word.

Not straight. It makes her not straight.

The fourth and final thing Beca realizes is that she absolutely, 100-percent-completely cannot **ever** tell Chloe.

Panic, white-hot and overwhelming, rushes through Beca in a whirlwind. It fills her throat, choking her, making her want to gag and retch, but before she can so much as gasp for breath, a terrified scream splits the evening air.

Startled, Beca jerks out of her thoughts to see Amy dangling from a net, caught in a bear trap.

“Guys?” Amy calls, confusion in her tone. “What happened?”

It snaps Beca out of her panic, acting as a welcome distraction from the spiraling thoughts in her mind. She stands robotically with the others, moving to help Amy down from the trap. Stacie even brings over a S’more as requested.

The (relative) normalcy of it all works to soothe Beca, helps her lock up that flood of panic behind the concrete walls in her chest, acting as a dam to hold back the torrent. It lets her forget about her feelings, at least for the moment.

It’s later, though, when they’re all back in the tent together, that it becomes an issue. Beca can hardly bear the thought of lying next to Chloe in the darkness. She momentarily debates asking to trade places with one of the others, but the thought brings with it a mental image of Chloe’s expression, filled with hurt and confusion, if she were to do such a thing. Just picturing it makes Beca’s insides squirm with guilt, so she grits her teeth and takes her place next to Lilly (and, therefore, Chloe’s perfect and upside-down face). Beca lies back slowly, careful to leave as much room between their faces as she can in the confines of the tent.

“Beca.”

She debates pretending she’s asleep but figures 0.3 seconds on the ground is too soon for her to realistically have passed out.

“Chloe,” she breathes back, staring at the ceiling of the tent.

“Hey, look at me.”

“What?”

“You’re not looking.”

Beca sighs and turns to her left side, still trying to keep as much distance as possible between her face and Chloe’s. She raises an eyebrow, hoping her expression doesn’t betray how hard her heart is beating in her chest. She wonders if Chloe can tell; if Chloe can somehow see, burning from her eyes, what is now the one secret Beca has from her.

“I’m glad we found our sound,” Chloe whispers to her, shining with happiness.

Beca hasn’t seen Chloe look that happy in months. She’s missed that expression.

“Yeah,” she replies, momentarily forgetting everything else in the face of Chloe’s joy. “I am too.”

Chloe smiles and starts softly, “You know, Beca…”

It instantly launches Beca’s mind to the night before, to Chloe’s whispered regret of not having experimented enough in college, and the panic rises yet again in Beca’s chest, held only by the thin-walled dam threatening to crack under the strain. She knows if Chloe says anything like that again, the dam will break open and spew out the horrible truth Beca’s attempting to shove down as far as she can.

“I’m pretty tired,” she blurts, speaking over Chloe and cutting her off. The volume of her voice startles Emily, making her jerk.

“So, uh, yeah,” Beca says, more quietly this time as her face warms. “I think I’m going to just get some sleep?” the pitch of her voice rises at the end, making it sound like a question.

“Oh,” Chloe blinks, lips parted in surprise.

Before she can say anything else, though, Beca rolls to her back and closes her eyes. She knows it’s a cheap move, but she _can’t_ look at Chloe.

It’s common knowledge Chloe is something other than straight. All the Bellas know. Chloe has always been open about it, having made comments about finding women attractive and going on casual dates with women. That, combined with her little “experimentation” thing the night before, had made things pretty clear without her ever having to come out and say it explicitly.

So, it’s not like Beca’s developed feelings for a straight girl. That’s not the problem at all.

The real problem is that she’s somehow developed feelings for her best friend. Isn’t there some kind of rule against that? Chloe is off limits. It’s as simple as that. It’s weird, and creepy, and definitely not something that a _normal_ person would ever have to experience. It’s not right. It’s a violation of Chloe’s friendship, her trust. Chloe is her _best friend_.

That seems to make it both better and worse. She knows everything about Chloe.

Beca has to stop herself from groaning out loud in exasperation.

It’s one thing to be attracted to Kommissar; she’s a stranger, and anyone with eyes can see how attractive she is. That’s a very basic physical attraction. That’s what had really started everything: the recognition of her perpetual word vomit for what it really was. Attraction.

Beca huffs at herself, quietly.

God, she’d tried so hard to shove that down and ignore it. She doesn’t want to think about it even now, eyes squeezed tight and dam in her chest holding strong. She isn’t… like that. She’s not _gay_. It’s not - just, no. She can’t be.

It’s not like she has any issue with people who are gay. Christ, of course not. Beca doesn’t care about _other people’s_ sexual orientations.

It’s just… _she_ wasn’t supposed to be this way. It was never an option.

“Goodnight, Bec,” Chloe’s soft whisper breaks through the cacophony in Beca’s mind. Beca can picture Chloe’s eyes sliding closed, a small and serene smile on her face, at peace that the Bellas are finally all back on the same page.

(If she’s honest with herself, Beca knows the problem hadn’t been with the Bellas as a whole. It had been between her and Chloe, and had everything to do with the internship secret Beca was keeping.)

(Now, there’s an even bigger secret.)

She isn’t gay. She can’t be.

But she’s definitely not straight, either.

“Goodnight, Chlo.”

Shit.

*******************

_Beca never intends for it to happen. It just does._

_She’s a freshman living in the dorms, and she’s been sharing a room with a creepy roommate and using public showers for almost three months. She hasn’t really had much of a chance to relieve the rising stress and tension in her body, something that only worsens and prickles over her skin every time she remembers Chloe barging into her shower to talk about lady jams._

_Which is often._

_(Only because it was such a weird thing for a stranger to do. That’s the only reason she thinks about it.)_

_It’s only natural that when she finds a note from Kimmy Jin one day that simply says, “I won’t be back tonight,” Beca lets herself get a little excited. She doesn’t really care where Kimmy Jin is, though she assumes it’s probably with some Korean friends or something. All that matters is for the first time in months, she has a bedroom to herself for the night._

_Okay. She’s more than a little excited._

_It’s not like she’s a serial masturbator or anything. It’s just been a while, and she’s got needs. She has what she considers a healthy outlook on masturbation; she’s never slept with anyone, so it’s a great way to know what feels good and what doesn’t for future reference, and it’s a nice stress-reliever. She doesn’t do it often, but enjoys it when she does._

_It’s easy to get started that night and fall into her usual rhythm. She knows what to think about, when to cup herself over her shorts, where to let her touch trail over her own breasts. She doesn’t imagine anyone specific, because there’s not really anyone she would consider in this situation. Briefly, she wonders if she should be thinking about Jesse, but then immediately casts the idea aside, because she really doesn’t need him for this._

_Closing her eyes to get lost in the moment, Beca waits and feels and lets her body anticipate, hands twitching until she can’t hold off any longer. She allows one hand to drift down her stomach, purposely slowly, catching on her sleep top as it goes. She furrows her brow, lost in the moment, until the hand lands between her legs at last, under her shorts but over her underwear. She presses the flat of three fingers against herself, letting out a soft whimper as she feels the dampness even through the cotton._

_Her back arches as she presses harder over the fabric, circling lightly now, her other hand fisted into her sheets. She keeps going until the sound of her own panting sighs fill the empty room. Then, she pulls her hand back, only to dip her fingertips under the waistband of her underwear and push down._

_Her entire body jolts and she cries out when her fingers are instantly coated in hot slickness; it’s been so long that she feels ready to combust at just that barest contact. Her fingers stroke up and down, gliding easily through herself, teasing and circling around sensitive skin. Her breathing turns erratic as she adds pressure to her circles, her hips lifting of their own accord against her hand._

_“Fuck,” she hisses through clenched teeth, her fingers dropping lower._

_She circles her own entrance, drawing out the moment before pressing in slowly. Her hips jerk and she can hear her own jagged gasps as she flutters and curls her fingers, pulling out to circle her clit with the needed pressure and then sliding back in._

_In what seems like no time at all, she feels herself tightening and her hips start to rock; her other hand releases the sheets to caress over her chest lazily, no longer needing to be precise. With one final curl, circle, push in, and rub combination, her hips lock in place and her body buzzes, teetering on the edge._

_Unbidden and inexplicable, the image of Chloe standing naked in her shower bursts to life behind her eyelids. She’s totally unprepared for the stunning rush of visceral pleasure she gets from imagining Chloe’s body; it sends fire racing down her spine and she clenches, legs stiffening and back seizing, arching off the mattress. She tries to hold if off, to think of someone_ – _anyone_ – _else, but before she can stop it, she comes hard, crying out more loudly than she’d meant to even in the solitude of her bedroom._

_She waits for it to pass, for the pulsing waves to recede, wanting for the first time in her life for it to end quickly. As soon as it does, her hand rips itself from her shorts and she rolls to her stomach, pressing her face into the pillow._

_Sobs_ – _actual, gasping sobs_ – _wrack her body and tear from her throat. She hadn’t meant to picture Chloe in that moment, hadn’t meant to objectify her new friend in that way. It feels like a violation, something shameful and contaminated, to have orgasmed to the thought of Chloe, her very distinctly not-male friend Chloe._

_Jesus Christ, what is **wrong** with her?_

_Her chest throbs with the force of her crying, and she can’t breathe; desperately, she rolls to her back again, taking massive gulps of air in an attempt to calm herself down._

_For the first time in her life, she feels perverted, creepy, and unclean. If hell exists, she’s almost certainly going directly there._

_At that moment, she vows to never let it happen again, to resist the urge, or to force herself to imagine Jesse, or some famous male actor or someone, anyone but Chloe Beale. She can’t make a mistake like this ever again._

_With that resolution sworn into existence in her mind, Beca eventually falls asleep with tears still streaming from the edges of her eyes, rolling down her temple to soak into her hair._

*******************

“We’re taking the picture with or without you! We are taking the picture _with_ or _without_ you,” Beca emphasizes, annoyed that this whole thing is taking this long.

Graduation is really the least of her worries at the moment.

Thankfully, it only takes another few seconds to corral all the Bellas together. Emily lifts Chloe’s phone for the photo – Beca carefully leans to her left to create a little more space between her and Chloe – and a second later, the photo is done. Beca thinks she might have forgotten to smile, but it’s okay; everyone will just assume she’s being her normal self.

(She was actually more focused on the way Chloe had leaned into her despite the space she’d made between them.)

“Oh, we’re so cute!” Chloe exclaims, examining the photo once Emily returns her phone to her. “See?” Chloe starts to hand her phone around, but Beca makes a show of checking her own phone for the time.

“We’re gonna be late,” she says urgently, trying to wave the Bellas to the cars to get to campus for the ceremony. They’ll have to carpool, and she’d really rather not have to sit next to Chloe.

(It’s not that she doesn’t want to sit by Chloe, or that she doesn’t want to let Chloe touch her – she does, more than anything – it just doesn’t seem fair to Chloe to let those things happen anymore.)

“We can take my car and Chloe’s!” Jessica calls out over the excitement.

“Let’s move, Bellas,” Chloe says, suddenly all business as she returns her phone to her pocket.

She climbs behind the wheel of her own car, and Beca knows she’s waiting for her to claim shotgun like she normally does, but instead, Beca slides into the backseat along with Flo and Lilly, leaving Stacie to take the passenger seat. Chloe glances back at her but doesn’t say anything. Still, it leaves a bad taste in Beca mouth and she squirms uncomfortably. Maybe she should have just ridden in Jessica’s mini-van instead, but the idea of not at least being in the same car as Chloe when they’re about to graduate and go their separate ways is too painful.

The thought of going separate ways after the end of their lease in August sends a new pang through Beca’s insides, but she shoves it away and does her best to lose herself in the Shania Twain currently blasting from Chloe’s car speakers.

In what seems like no time at all, they’re pulling into Barden’s crowded parking lot and spilling out of the car to meet up with the others and join the writhing crowd of green graduation gowns milling in front of the gymnasium, which is where the ceremony will take place.

Almost immediately, they’re lost in the crowd of graduates and their families; most of the Bellas melt away into the crowd to greet other friends or to find their own families. Chloe latches onto Beca’s side, startling her and reassuring her at the same time.

“So, are you –” Chloe starts, only to be cut off abruptly by the appearance of Beca’s dad Warren and his wife Sheila. Beca’s relieved; she really didn’t want to have to answer awkward questions.

“Beca!” Warren exclaims jovially. As a professor, he’s also decked out in some ridiculous gown, though his is black instead of green. “You’re here!”

“Present,” Beca grimaces.

“Hi, Dr. Mitchell,” Chloe says politely, giving a little wave. “Hi, Sheila!”

Beca restrains her eye roll as Warren brightens somehow even further. He and Sheila have met Chloe two or three times in the past, and Beca knows Warren credits Chloe for getting her to stay at Barden. As such, he adores her.

“Hi, Chloe, how are you?” Warren smiles warmly at her.

Chloe gives a little wave. “I’m good! You guys?”

“Well, you know, busy…” Sheila says vaguely. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”

“I know,” Chloe shakes her head, “Beca just keeps you guys all to herself.”

Beca shifts her weight, scanning the crowd for no one in particular while Warren and Sheila laugh politely at Chloe’s joke. Chloe’s better with her dad and Sheila than she is.

“And your parents?” Warren asks.

“Oh, they’re good… and actually, they’re right there,” Chloe replies, pointing to a space several yards away, at a diagonal behind Warren and Sheila. Beca cranes her neck to see Chloe’s parents – her dad tall and red-haired, her mom an older version of Chloe – whom she’s met a couple of times before. Chloe’s brother stands beside them, looking around at the crowd.

“I should go meet them,” Chloe says slightly apologetically.

“Of course,” Warren replies. “Give them our best.”

“Will do!” Chloe smiles. Then, before Beca can do anything to prevent it, Chloe loops her arms around Beca’s waist in a side-hug and leans in to press her lips to Beca’s left cheek in a quick peck. In the next instant, Chloe bounces away to greet her family with an enthusiastic squeal of joy.

Beca can only stare mutely at Warren and Sheila, her skin burning where Chloe’s lips had touched. The stare back at her; Warren looks stunned that Beca had let someone kiss her face, and Sheila’s expression is unreadable, her eyes narrowed and lips slightly pursed.

Paranoia hits Beca, warming her neck and making her sweat; that probably looked very suspicious. She can practically see the accusation flaring in Sheila’s eyes as if there’s some sort of sign glowing out of Beca’s forehead declaring in all caps, “I HAVE THE HOTS FOR CHLOE BEALE.”

The dam in Beca’s chest strains against the pressure of Sheila’s scrutiny, whether real or imagined.

She can’t let something like that happen again. She can’t touch Chloe, and she can’t let Chloe touch her. It’s too dangerous.

“So…” Warren begins, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit of his when he’s feeling awkward. Beca’s sure he’s going to comment, sure he’s going to ask what’s going on between her and Chloe and the pressure in her chest rises and rises and rises until he finishes his question: “Are you ready for this, kiddo?” he asks, gesturing vaguely into the crowd.

Beca blinks. Oh yeah. Graduation.

She huffs and shifts her weight, hoping neither her dad nor Sheila noticed her panic. The pressure in her chest drops back to a more bearable level for the time being.

“Well, don’t have much of a choice,” she answers. “It’s kind of, like, right now.”

“It went by really quickly, didn’t it?” Warren muses, rubbing at the back of his neck again and looking down at the cement under his feet. Beca wonders if he’s actually developed some sort of rash back there, until he finally looks up at her with alarmingly watery-looking eyes.

“Oh no, none of that,” Beca warns, pointedly looking away. “Can’t we just get this over with?”

Sheila hums in general disagreement and says, “I think you’ll regret that attitude one day. Won’t you miss your... friends?” Her eyes flick in the direction Chloe had disappeared in.

Beca only barely resists rolling her eyes. As if Sheila would really know anything about the Bellas, having never attended a single Bellas performance in the four years Beca has been at Barden.

“I mean, I guess,” Beca says, hearing her own impatience. “But you know, there’s Worlds, and then I think we’re all sticking around this summer until we get kicked out by the lease.”

Warren’s eyebrows shoot up. “I thought you were going to LA right after Worlds? To meet Jesse?”

Beca opens her mouth, then closes it again. She’d forgotten about that.

She doesn’t have until August, after all.

She doesn’t have time to think on it long, though, because Sheila asks, “Chloe will be here this summer?”

“Oh, uh,” Beca flounders, her brain trying to catch up with what’s starting to feel like an interrogation. “Yep, that’s – yep, her too. Don’t you think you guys should find seats?” she asks pointedly, because now her dad’s frowning and looking like he wants to say something else.

The second she reminds them of the impending ceremony and the crushing crowd likely to be inside, his expression clears. “Right!” he says. “We’d better. Come on, honey,” he says to Sheila, turning toward the entrance to the auditorium.

Beca frowns at their retreating backs, trying to wipe her memory clean of her dad’s pet name for Sheila. She instead focuses on the rapidly-forming line of people in green gowns, attempting to form themselves into alphabetical order as they had been instructed in graduation rehearsal.

Ahead, she sees Chloe hop in the line near the front; with the last name Beale, she’ll be one of the first (after Cynthia Rose) to get that empty folder representing a diploma. They make eye contact, and Chloe shoots her a wink that makes heat rise in her cheeks. She’s glad they’re far enough away that it’s not too obvious.

After some asking around and awkward shuffling, Beca eventually finds her place in the line between Charlotte Martin and Dean Monroe, who seems to be wearing his gown backwards.

Beca takes a deep breath to try to steady herself. The pressure rises in her chest again, reminding her of Sheila’s suspicious glare and her dad’s surprise. _I thought you were going to LA right after Worlds? To meet Jesse?_

That had been her original plan. God, for years that had been her plan. Now, though, the thought of it makes nausea flip her stomach and suddenly, there’s nothing she wants to do less. The deadline – right after Worlds – looms over her head like the blade of a guillotine ready to fall. She’s not ready. Beca’s vision shimmers and blurs, and her breathing turns erratic. For a second, she feels lightheaded and wonders if she’s about to pass out, but then Charlotte Martin in front of her starts walking, the line ahead of her disappearing into the gymnasium, and the only thing Beca can think to do is follow.

One foot in front of the other, repeat, until suddenly she’s inside the auditorium, walking past rows of empty chairs until Charlotte leads her to the row marked “M.” Frantically, Beca glances toward the front of the room, trying to see Chloe but instead getting an eyeful of Stacie winking at some poor guy sitting in her same row as she finds her seat.

The familiar sight of Stacie flirting with an innocent bystander works to snap Beca out of her fog and calm her down. She sinks slowly into her assigned chair, noting vaguely that Charlotte has already pulled out her phone and is texting at least three different people. Beca doesn’t blame her; the ceremony is expected to continue for more than two hours.

The most exciting part of it all will probably be watching the other Bellas cross the stage at the front of the room. She wonders what shade of red Barden’s President will turn when Stacie flirts with him openly, and exactly how many backflips Flo can fit in before running out of stage space.

God, she really hopes Amy elected to wear underwear.

An unexpected wave of nostalgia hits hard and fast, memories of the past four years flicking through Beca’s mind like one of those montages in movies Jesse always made her watch, every second drawing to this moment.

It doesn’t quite feel real, and she’s not really ready for it when the Barden President goes to the podium at center stage. He delivers what is probably the same speech from last year, and she only half-listens to him drone on about growth, individuality, and something called “professional preparedness.” And then it’s like Beca blinks because suddenly he’s telling the audience to hold their applause until the end and Britney Acker is being called up to the stage, Cynthia Rose standing right behind her, next in line.

This is happening suddenly very quickly and Beca isn’t _ready_ to graduate, she doesn’t _want_ to move on because it means she needs to decide between her plans in LA and somewhere else uncharted and between Jesse and _someone else_ uncharted and she doesn’t want to think about how she’s not straight and how that changes _everything_ in her entire life as she knows it and there’s the goddamn _pressure_ again and she’s breathing too quickly and –

“Chloe Anne Beale.”

Everything stops.

Chloe steps onto the stage gracefully, head held high, and Beca can breathe again. She crosses the stage with a kind of confidence that somehow no one else has yet achieved. Her parents and brother apparently forgot the “hold your applause” rule because Beca can clearly hear three voices cheering and calling out Chloe’s name.

Chloe doesn’t look for them, though; she shakes the President’s hand, takes the green folder, and turns to beam directly at Beca. Somehow, in the mass of green-clad graduating students and despite the very obvious presence of her family, Chloe finds Beca in the crowd instantly.

Beca’s chest constricts and she feels her lips lift to mirror Chloe’s huge smile, right before Chloe steps off the stage for the next person in line.

LA is suddenly no longer an option.

It hits Beca then that there probably (definitely) should have been a fifth realization somewhere among the string of them at the campfire.

She realizes she has to talk to Jesse.

 


	4. Chapter 4 - Chloe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that I've added flashbacks in italics, separated by the asterisks. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments so far! I really appreciate them :)

The trip to Copenhagen is long. Like, twelve-hours-total-flying-plus-a-five-hour-layover-in-Heathrow long.

Normally, Chloe wouldn’t mind. It should be fine. They’ve traveled for Bellas performances before, and Chloe’s even flown internationally before, so in theory, it should be fine. She’s brought a book, has her headphones and phone for music, and even has a sleep mask to cover her eyes.

And yet. There is one miniscule detail keeping the flight and travel from being not fine.

That little detail – though she’d never let anyone call her little – is sitting in her usual spot next to Chloe. Beca keeps twisting and fidgeting in her seat, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, and it’s distracting Chloe and making her feel antsy.

Still, Chloe feels pretty lucky to even be sitting by Beca; she hasn’t missed how weird Beca has been acting lately. She’s been withdrawing more and more, and with how she acted about the drive to the graduation ceremony, Chloe can’t help but wonder: if they hadn’t booked tickets and seats months ago, would Beca have still elected to sit by her?

It’s confusing and actually kind of painful. She’d thought that the retreat had fixed everything, but apparently, it hadn’t. And, given Beca’s plans for leaving to LA in only a couple more days, Chloe’s not sure they have the time to fix anything at all.

Beca again fidgets in her seat, groaning a little in the back of her throat in annoyance. Chloe has to hold back an annoyed sound of her own. If Beca would just lean her head on Chloe’s shoulder and pass out like she normally does, they could both be comfortable and fall asleep for the duration of this stupidly long plane ride over the Atlantic.

But no.

Instead, for some unknown reason, Beca is stubbornly refusing to find the obvious solution. Rather, she seems to prefer to contort her body in seemingly any configuration _other_ than leaning against Chloe, huffing loudly when she becomes uncomfortable.

Finally, after over an hour of this incessant, irritated huffing coming from the seat next to her, Chloe looks over pointedly.

“Bec, you could just… you know, lean on me.”

Beca glances at her uncomfortably but doesn’t move; Chloe clicks her tongue and leans forward to repeat herself – maybe Beca hadn’t heard her the first time – but the second her upper body crosses over the armrest dividing them, Beca scrabbles at her own seatbelt, releasing it with a click and jumping up from her seat.

Chloe stares up at her in shock. Across the aisle, Flo (with an eye mask of her own) twitches in her sleep and Emily blinks over at them with bleary concern.

A pale blush rises into Beca’s cheeks, coloring them a light pink. Eyes darting around the cabin, she stammers, “Um, uh, I – bathroom.”

“Oh,” Chloe blinks, not entirely sure she believes that. “Are you –”

But before she can finish the “ _okay?”_ Beca’s gone, headed down the aisle to the bathroom at top speed.

Just like that, Chloe’s left alone with only the aching understanding that Beca doesn’t want to touch her anymore.

*******************

_Beca is always on the edge of things. Chloe wonders if she even realizes what she’s doing, or if she just naturally migrates to the outside margins of life._

_Chloe’s seen her do it from the instant she first laid eyes on the “alt-girl.” She watched Beca dodge around people at the Activities Fair, not letting anyone even come close to touching her or bumping into her. During Bella initiation, Beca had stood on the edge of the group, and then later remained on the outskirts of the action at the Hood Night party._

_Beca lives life by sitting on the outside and looking in. Chloe isn’t sure if it’s some kind of defense mechanism, if Beca’s just really introverted, or if Beca even knows that she’s doing it. No matter the cause behind it, Chloe feels sad that someone would choose to live their lives without the comfort of another’s touch. It makes Chloe wonder how long it’s been since Beca allowed someone to touch or hug her._

_It’s that thought that makes Chloe reach out and pull her close at Hood Night. Well, that, and the large amount of alcohol she’s already consumed. It doesn’t hurt that she’s more than a little attracted to Beca, either._

_Beca responds favorably enough to that; at least, she doesn’t slap Chloe or shove her away. In fact, it kind of makes Chloe think she’s broken through that hard exterior. But then, the next day at her first Bellas rehearsal, Beca sits in the back corner of the group, and Chloe realizes it’s going to be harder to pull Beca in from the edges than she’d thought._

_The first time she can remember Beca ever wanting to be in the middle of the group is after the final notes of “No Diggity” fade from the empty pool. It’s also the first time she thinks she’s really seen Beca smile – a real smile, not the tight, sarcastic, “fuck you” one she throws at Aubrey._

_After the riff-off, as the other girls follow Aubrey from the pool, Chloe drags Beca aside and pulls her into a hug, wrapping her arms around Beca’s waist securely and hooking her chin over Beca’s shoulder. Beca gasps in surprise and stiffens to a board in Chloe’s arms. Chloe holds her even more tightly, trying to convey as much care as she can. When Beca still doesn’t hug her back, Chloe wonders if she should maybe back off before she’s brought up on assault charges. But then, Beca’s body relaxes slowly and arms rise to tentatively pat her back. By the way Beca starts to lean into the touch with a soft, almost silent exhale, Chloe gets her answer: it’s been a long time since Beca has been hugged by anyone._

_Chloe immediately vows to never again let Beca go so long without touch._

*******************

Worries about Beca’s sudden refusal of physical contact plague Chloe from the moment their plane touches ground in Copenhagen all the way until they arrive at the World’s stage. From there, Chloe’s every other thought is driven out by DSM and how stupidly, annoyingly good they are. Their choreography is perfectly coordinated, their music artfully arranged, and their voices in total harmony. It’s _so_ annoying.

Chloe knows their set is better (not just any a cappella group can manage to put more than forty people on a stage, but the Barden Bellas sure can) and she trusts in Beca’s arrangement completely, so there’s no real question in her mind about who is going to win. So, really, DSM being very good at what they do is not the annoying part.

No, the annoying part is how Beca is obviously watching Kommissar during the entire DSM performance. She’s not being subtle about it, either. Chloe doesn’t know what Beca’s problem is, or why she’s been harboring this weird year-long fixation on Kommissar, but it would be great if Beca could get over that about now, thanks.

And it really, really doesn’t help that Kommissar seems to enjoy every second of it.

An enjoyment that is currently on full display as DSM finishes their set and Kommissar turns to smile directly at Beca, completely ignoring the thousands of people chanting for them in the audience.

Chloe swears she sees Beca’s throat bob up and down.

It’s annoying. And it’s pissing her off.

Before she can smack Beca upside the head to get her to stop drooling, however, DSM makes their way off the stage. Kommissar, predictably, makes a beeline directly for Beca, dabbing nonexistent sweat from her neck.

“Hear that?” Kommissar purrs, addressing Beca and Beca alone. “They chant for us.”

“Yeah, well –” Chloe starts, only to cut off abruptly when Kommissar reaches to rest her hand on Beca’s jaw.

“Now, don’t cry too hard when you lose, alright?” Kommissar says as if Chloe isn’t even there. “Makes eyes puffy,” she emphasizes her point by stroking her thumb across Beca’s cheek.

Beca doesn’t pull away.

(That stings more than it should.)

“Your hands are so soft,” Beca whispers reverently.

The sudden rush of jealousy blindsides Chloe and snatches the air from her lungs; she has to fight to school her expression and squash her initial reaction, which is to slap the smug look from Kommissar’s face and demand that Beca pay attention to her instead. She knows how irrational it all is – it’s not like Beca is, was, or ever will be _hers_ – but Beca’s response to Kommissar’s touch twists knots into Chloe’s insides.

The intensity of her own anger is such that she loses track of things for a few seconds. By the time Chloe recovers enough to catch up, Kommissar has pulled back from Beca.

“Everything must come to an end, even the Bellas,” says Kommissar imperiously. And now Chloe’s back to being totally pissed off because how dare she speak to them like that? Doesn’t Kommissar realize who she’s talking to?

It’s only made worse when, as DSM files away, Beca lunges forward to yell after them, “Ha! Your sweat smells like cinnamon!”

Jesus Christ.

“Damn it!” Beca groans, turning back to the Bellas. At least she realizes how she sounds.

She’s not the only one.

“Um, Beca, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Amy begins, “but that was very… homosexual.”

Beca freezes, her expression shutting down.

“Yeah, you trying to make Chloe jealous?” Cynthia Rose calls.

Chloe’s stomach lurches. Beca’s refusing to look at her, though her cheeks are turning pink.

“She’s hot, I don’t blame you,” adds Stacie, with an apologetic half-smile at Chloe.

“No, nothing will interrupt Bhloe,” Amy protests loudly, though she was the one to start everything.

Beca stands mutely, her eyes widening with every word said. The sight makes Chloe desperate to end this line of conversation before Beca actually implodes or something.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she says loudly, drawing everyone’s attention to herself. “Let’s focus on the set. Everyone feel good?” she stares down the Bellas, making purposeful eye contact with each one until they nod. Beca’s the last in line, and her eyes skitter away from Chloe’s before finally meeting them resolutely. She nods.

“Great,” Chloe continues firmly. “So let’s go out there, and let’s aca-rock this.”

“Right,” Beca adds, apparently finding her voice. “We’ve got this. We’re going to top Worlds.”

Amy clears her throat loudly. Cynthia Rose smirks.

Chloe glares at them.

Amy seems to wilt a little before standing up straighter. “Let’s crush it!” she says loudly, throwing her arm forward.

The rest of the Bellas follow suit, stacking their hands on top of each other’s in the middle of the circle. Like always, Beca’s and Chloe’s hands are on top of the pile; Beca’s hand twitches when Chloe places hers over it.

But then the announcer calls for the Barden Bellas and Chloe forgets about everything except winning Worlds.

She trusts Beca’s arrangement completely. Of _course_ they’ll win.

* * *

They win.

After, Beca doesn’t throw herself into Chloe’s arms like she normally does. Instead, she initiates an impromptu group hug. It’s nice, but not the same.

Chloe tries not to let it bother her.

(She fails.)

* * *

Chloe stands at the drink table haphazardly constructed in the middle of the Worlds field in front of the stage. She stares down at it, not quite sure what she should go for next: a vodka cranberry, or a Malibu and pineapple.

“Hurry up,” Stacie moans from behind her in the line. “I want to go meet those hot Canadians.”

“I’m thinking,” insists Chloe. She draws her lower lip between her teeth, eyes flicking over the available bottles. She’s just reached a decision and is reaching for the pineapple juice when a loud, “Becaw!” surprises her and makes her jump.

Her attention flies upward to see Jesse wading through the crowd, head swiveling, obviously in search of Beca. Chloe’s stomach sours, and suddenly, she’s not sure she wants anything to drink. She supposes she could help him; she happens to know that Beca is at the bathrooms, but she doesn’t really feel the need to tell Jesse that. He can keep searching.

“Oh my god you’re taking too long,” Stacie nudges her aside, reaching for the rum.

“Sorry,” Chloe mutters. “I’m not thirsty anymore, anyway.”

Stacie nods silently as she makes her drink, but when she turns to leave the table with her rum and coke in hand, Chloe doesn’t miss the slight softening of sympathy around her eyes. They’ve never really talked about it, but they don’t have to. Stacie’s more observant than people give her credit for.

Stacie is replaced by a happily swaying Aubrey an instant later. She spills a fair amount of her drink – a vodka cranberry of her own – on the ground, and Chloe has to reach out and steady her.

“Maybe that’s enough for now,” she laughs, steering Aubrey to a spot off to the side away from the drink table.

Aubrey merely smiles at her dopily. “You know, I never thought something like this would happen.”

“What? Us being the best in the world?”

Aubrey’s eyes widen. “God, no, not that!” she waves a hand. “I already knew the Bellas would be the best.”

Chloe smiles a little at that, because of course Aubrey would just assume the Bellas are the best a cappella group in the world. Which, she supposes, they kind of are now.

Over Aubrey’s shoulder, Chloe sees Beca emerge from the crowd to wave down Jesse. He spots her and smiles so widely that it’s impressive his face doesn’t split in half. They start to move to each other, dodging around drunken international a cappella singers.

“No,” Aubrey continues, slurring slightly.  “I meant I never thought Beca would care enough about the Bellas to do something like that. To come clean, swallow her pride, and follow through like this.”

Behind Aubrey, Jesse and Beca reach each other; Jesse sweeps Beca into his arms, both of them laughing. It makes Chloe’s chest hurt and she forces herself to look back at Aubrey.

“Yeah, well, we should know by now that Beca cares more than she lets on,” Chloe shrugs. “About a lot of things, apparently,” she adds because only a few feet away, Beca’s laughing in the arms of the boyfriend she barely spent any time with all year.

She hears the bitterness in her own voice; it makes Aubrey turn to look at where Jesse has his arms looped around Beca’s shoulders as they talk to each other quietly.

Beca doesn’t seem to have a problem with Jesse touching her.

Why would she, though? She and Jesse have been together for three years; he’s touched Beca in ways that Chloe never will. That’s all this is, Chloe realizes with a dull pang to her chest.

Beca’s finally remembered that she’s dating Jesse and set to move to LA with him in less than a week, and so she’s pulling away and shutting down. It’s what Beca _does_ when she’s faced with emotional loss; she protects herself. This time, Beca’s protecting herself by not letting Chloe touch her anymore.

Aubrey turns back to Chloe with a quiet hum that might be either indifference or disappointment. “Apparently the hobbit does care.” She hesitates, then adds softly, “Chloe, are you okay?”

It throws Chloe for a second; she’d half-forgotten how direct Aubrey is. “I – yeah, we just won Worlds!” she enthuses. “I’m great!” she adds slightly manically, throwing Aubrey the brightest smile she can muster.

By the way Aubrey’s eyebrows lift and her lips purse, she knows she hadn’t fooled her in the least. Aubrey twists, sparing one more glance over her shoulder to where Beca’s starting to fidget under Jesse’s arms, then looks back at Chloe. Her eyes soften unbearably, and Chloe already knows what she’s going to say.

“Chloe. I’m really, really sorry that nothing ever –”

“You know, I’ve gotta go, sorry Bree. There’s, uh, there’s something…” Chloe looks around, desperate to make some kind of excuse to get away, and even though she’s really trying to _not_ look at Beca, her eyes are naturally drawn there. Beca’s shrugging away from Jesse’s embrace, very obviously tired of his clingy tendencies, and yet he still keeps trying to draw her into another hug.

Perhaps irrationally, Chloe’s mind launches into overdrive at the uncomfortable look on Beca’s face, even though she knows Jesse would never do anything to hurt Beca. Still, Beca appears to be looking for some kind of escape, so Chloe impulsively calls out, “Hey, Bec, can you come here for a sec?”

Beca’s face snaps around to look at her, and for a moment she looks happy, maybe even relieved. She turns to Jesse and says something Chloe can’t hear, and then she turns and walks toward Chloe and Aubrey. As she draws nearer, though, her expression shifts to become more guarded. Behind her, Jesse stares at Chloe as if she’d kicked his puppy.

“Be careful,” Aubrey warns, too quietly for Beca to hear.

Chloe nods once, her lips drawn into a tight smile, and then Beca’s standing right there.

“Beca,” Aubrey says formally.

“Aubrey,” Beca mimics, equally stone-faced.

Silence.

Chloe has to fight to keep the grin off her face.

Aubrey buckles first with a small smile. “You did really well.”

“I know,” Beca deadpans back. Then, she smiles. “Thanks for coming, though, Cap. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Aubrey shrugs. “Of course.”

A huge crash and several screams sound out from a large group of people nearest the stage. Chloe, Beca, and Aubrey all jump, startled, and look toward the source of the sound; craning her neck, Chloe sees that Amy is attempting to hoist herself back onto the Worlds stage with no less than seven bottles of liquor in hand.

“Christ,” Beca mutters.

Aubrey clears her throat. “If you’ll excuse me,” she says, “I have to go stop Amy from doing… whatever that is.”

“Mmm,” Chloe agrees, now watching Amy perform a sort of revised mermaid dance involving balancing three of the seven bottles of liquor on her hip.

With one last overly formal nod to Beca, Aubrey bustles away with remarkable speed for someone recently cut off from booze.

Beca stares after her in amusement, until she seems to realize suddenly that she’s alone with Chloe. Her expression closes, suddenly becoming the neutral mask Chloe hasn’t seen since Beca’s freshman year. She shuffles her feet on the ground, looking down and around as if the grass under their feet is more interesting than conversation with Chloe would be.

For the first time in a long time, Chloe doesn’t know what to say to her. All she can think about is the looming deadline – Beca, leaving – in only about a week. It seems much closer this side of Worlds, and panic rises in Chloe’s chest at the realization, filling up the space in her lungs and forcing words from her mouth.

“So… Jesse’s here,” she manages after several seconds of silence, hearing the strain in her own voice.

“Wh – oh, yeah,” Beca huffs, crossing her arms and running her tongue over her front teeth.

 Another beat.

“Did you know he was coming?”

Beca shrugs, glancing up at her. “Uh, not really. He didn’t – well, we haven’t really been – it’s, I mean, uh, it was a – kind of a surprise.”

Chloe stares.

“Oh.”

Beca nods awkwardly and examines the ground further.

Chloe’s mind races, flooding with ideas she doesn’t want to let herself hope for, mingled with the familiar dampening guilt because what the hell kind of best friend is she when what she wants more than anything is for Beca to tell her that she and Jesse are fighting, that she’s not going to go to LA with him, that instead she’s going to stay in the Bella house with the rest of them until August.

It’s Chloe’s wildest dream. She’s been waiting for this to happen for three years but she tries to dampen down her excitement because clearly Beca’s hurting over something and yet here she is, getting all excited about what it might mean, and dear God what’s _wrong_ with her that she wants her best friend’s long-term relationship to crash and burn? But then Beca’s hunching her shoulders, drawing into herself, and her eyes dart around under her furrowed brow and suddenly Chloe knows what she’s going to say before she says it.

 “Bec, are –”

“I’m going to break up with him.”

 


	5. Chapter 5 - Beca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Internalized homophobia

The days following Worlds pass in a haze of confusion, fear, and jet lag. Beca feels like she’s stumbling from one moment to the next with no end destination in mind. The plane ride back to the United States passes in a hangover fog so dense that Beca almost forgets that she can’t allow herself to touch Chloe anymore. More than once, she wakes up from a nap, her head on Chloe’s shoulder, only to snap herself upright and lean in the other direction, trying to sleep on that side.

She knows Chloe’s bothered by it, and it’s killing Beca to do it, but it’s for the best. Beca tries not to think about it too much.

She wonders if she should have told Chloe that she’s going to break up with Jesse. She’s not sure it’s entirely fair that Chloe should know about her plans before Jesse does, especially considering the reason Beca decided to end their long-term relationship. If Chloe thinks any worse of her for it, though, she hasn’t said. She hasn’t said much about the breakup at all, in fact. Beca tries not to think about that too much, either.

It’s not like she really had a choice in telling the others, though. Almost as soon as they’d boarded the flight from Copenhagen, Amy had pestered the details out of her. After spending the entire morning and wait in the airport enduring Amy’s questions about her mood, Beca had snapped and the truth had come spilling out (loudly) on the flight for all of the Bellas to hear.

It hadn’t been Beca’s proudest moment, but at least it was over and done with.

Really, the only person who doesn’t know that she’s going to break up with Jesse is Jesse himself.

It’s hard to force herself to go to the Treble house two days after returning to Barden. She gives herself a day to sleep off the hangover and jet lag. Then she gives herself a second day to watch Netflix and try to plan what to say to him, besides the truth. When she doesn’t come up with any lie that sounds good, though, and he texts to remind her that they need to plan for their apartment in LA ( _Countdown to LA: 4 days! Come over!)_ , she knows she can’t put it off any longer.

She leaves the Bella house with a grimace and Chloe’s parting, “Good luck,” in her ears, hoping that by the time she gets to the Treble house she’ll have come up with a decent way to do this.

She doesn’t.

When Jesse opens the door and leads her up the stairs and to his room, she still doesn’t know what she’s going to say. Even when he closes his bedroom door behind them and sprawls on his bed over the covers, smiling at her happily, her mind whirs in search of the right words. Jesse lies there, legs hanging over the end of his bed as he outlines their future in LA, and she’s still got no idea how she’s going to do this.

“So, I know the apartment is a little small, but I really think if we push the futon against that far wall, we’ll have room for a little table in front of it for snacks, and then the TV can go in the corner.”

Beca, cross-legged on the floor, picks at the carpet.

“Uh huh.”

“Right. And then, in the bedroom, we should push the bed in the corner. Which, I know, one of us will have to crawl over the other or scoot down the end to get off it, but it’ll open more room.”

“Yep. Sounds good.”

“And, you know, I think our bathroom would really benefit from one of those giant T-Rex costumes hanging in the bathtub.”

“For sure.”

Jesse props himself up on his hands and frowns down at her. “Beca, are you even listening?”

Startled, she looks up and tries to shake off the fog in her brain. “I – yeah, I mean…”

Jesse raises an eyebrow.

Beca cringes. “Yeah… no.”

“No?”

“No,” sighs Beca. “Sorry. I just. Sorry.”

She runs her hands through her hair, annoyed with herself. She’s annoyed with Jesse, too, though it’s really not his fault. He’s excited to start their lives together; she’s the one who messed things up by developing the right kind of feelings for the wrong person.

“Beca? What’s wrong?”

Jesse looks so concerned for her, his eyes wide and lips parted; it makes Beca’s stomach ache. She hates that she has to be the one to do this to him. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.

She feels like she’s a freshman again, with sky-high walls between her and him. Within her chest, the dam holding back the truth cracks, and it’s on the tip of her tongue, threatening to burst free.

_I can’t be with you anymore._

_I’m not who you think I am._

_I’m sorry._

He’s still staring at her, waiting for her to say something.

God, her stomach hurts. She doesn’t want to do this.

“Bec?”

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. Like ripping off a band-aid, right? She takes another breath.

“B –”

 “Ican’tgowithyou,” she spews in a rush.

The air between them stills. Jesse blinks at her. The corners of his mouth tighten.

“Can you please say that again?” he asks, his voice stilted and cold. She knows he heard her the first time.

“Jesse –”

“Please?”

She stares at him; he stares back. The clock on his wall ticks away their breaths, unbearably loud in the quiet.

She breaks first, her voice fragile even to her own ears.

“I can’t go with you to LA. I can’t – I can’t do this anymore. Us. I can’t.”

A muscle jumps in Jesse’s cheek as he clenches his jaw, his expression turning stony – not incredulous, not sad – just stony. After a moment he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and hangs his head.

She wishes he’d yell. Or cry. Or be even the slightest bit surprised.

It’s almost insulting, really, how utterly unsurprised he seems.

After a minute of this – or maybe an hour – Beca thinks that maybe she should leave since it doesn’t seem like Jesse’s going to do anything but sit there. She uncrosses her legs and pushes up from the floor, a little stiff from how tense she’d been. She crosses his bedroom and reaches for the door, telling herself not to look back.

“Any reason why?”

Jesse’s question stops her in her tracks. Her hand twitches on the cool metal of the door handle.

“I just – I can’t,” she manages, teeth gritted. She hadn’t expected him to ask questions, but maybe she should have; the hero in a movie never lets the girl go that easily.

“Bec.”

She closes her eyes at the nickname. She hates it when he calls her that.

(It’s not his nickname to use.)

“Jesse,” she says, fighting to keep her tone flat. “We can’t be together anymore.”

With a creaking of bedsprings and two quick footfalls, he’s beside her in an instant, standing next to the wall. He’s not blocking her exit, but she still feels frozen. Now he looks upset; she has to fight the urge to reach up and press her finger between his eyebrows to soothe the heavy crease there.

“Is it something I did?” Jesse asks tightly. “If it is… Beca, I can fix this, I can –”

The dam in her chest creaks under pressure.

She inhales sharply, cutting him off. “No, it’s not you –”

“Really?” his head draws back and his eyebrows lift. “That line? The ‘it’s not you, it’s me?’”

Beca swallows hard. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to just let her go after she broke things off. He wasn’t supposed to _try_.

“No, it’s really not you, you – you’re not listening,” Beca insists, her voice rising in pitch.

“I’m listening!” Jesse argues, his own voice becoming louder. “You’re just not saying anything!”

Her mouth opens and it’s right there on the tip of her tongue ( _I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay_ ) but she shoves it down, refusing to let it leave her body. She closes her mouth and looks to where her hand still rests on the door handle. She should leave. She needs to leave.

“Bec,” Jesse says softly, his voice more pained than she’s ever heard it, “if it’s not something I did, then… are you… seeing someone? Someone else?”

Her heart clenches at the implication, at the idea that she would ever cheat on him. She is _nothing_ like her father. If Jesse really knew her, he’d never have to ask that.

She glares at him, suddenly angry and taking petty satisfaction in how he steps away from her. “I didn’t cheat on you,” she spits. “I’d never do that.”

Still, he pushes. “There’s no one else? No one that you’d rather be with?”

“No!” she insists, praying the flash of red curls flying through her mind hadn’t shown in her eyes and betrayed her.

Jesse’s eyes jump between hers, as if searching for something; for an instant, they’re locked in time, both daring the other to speak first, and Beca wonders with a thrill of dread if he knows. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then he sighs and glances away.

“So, what is it then?” he asks, and she can tell he’s fighting for composure.

There’s nothing she wants more than to reach out to him and explain that it is not his fault. But the walls around her and the dam within her hold her back; the warring forces – a secret dividing her from the rest of the world and a bursting torrent of truth threatening to escape should she release her grip on it for an instant – paralyze her with fear of the unknown.

Beca bites her lip and does the only thing she can think of; she turns the handle of Jesse’s bedroom door, flinging it open before throwing herself out of the room.

“No, you don’t get to do that!” Jesse calls after her, but she’s already moving, her rapid footsteps muffled in the carpet of the landing. “You don’t get to just shut down on me, Beca!” He sounds angry for the first time, and when she glances back, he’s chasing after her with a desperate look on his face.

She reaches the stairs, almost stumbling as she half-runs down them to get away from the last three years of her life.

“You want this to end,” Jesse continues, pounding down the stairs after her, “you want us to be over, that’s – that’s fine, but I deserve to know why!”

Beca jumps the last step and hits the ground floor, making for the door at top speed. She snatches up her bag from the little bench by the door and crams her feet into her sneakers as Jesse reaches her.

“After everything we’ve been through,” he begs, keeping pace with her as she moves to the front door, “after all that time, I deserve to know why!”

She pauses, again with her hand on the door handle. Jesse’s right; he deserves better than he ever got with her.

*******************

_Beca kisses Jesse after winning Nationals because it feels like she’s supposed to._

_There could be worse options; he’s her only male friend at Barden, and he’s cute, nice, and is actually a decent person, even if he is annoyingly enthusiastic at times. Even from the beginning, he’d been enthusiastic in his very painfully, blatantly, glaringly obvious interest in her._

_She’s not the type of girl that takes satisfaction in knowing a boy likes her. It actually kind of scares her, how hard he’s been trying with her all year, because she doesn’t try with anyone anymore._

_That is, until the Bellas. She tries harder with them than she has with anything in years._

_Jesse tries with her, and that’s different and kind of scary. She does grudgingly appreciate it, though, even if it feels like a little too much at times._

_She supposes that means she’s supposed to date him. A lot of other people seem to think so, anyway. Aubrey practically has an aneurysm when she claims that she isn’t hooking up with him after the Semis. Maybe ironically, it’s that damage inflicted on all of her relationships following Semis that drives Beca to choose Jesse._

_She’s lonely, even lonelier than she’d been after her mom had died. She doesn’t know why exactly, or who she’s missing the most. Thinking about the Bellas is confusing, and she especially doesn’t let herself think about one specific Bella, so it’s easier to tell herself she misses Jesse the most. It’s easy to decide that he’s the one she most needs to mend things with, easy to tell herself that she’s fallen for him. It’s what any other girl in her situation would do, she imagines. She must like him more than she knows, that’s all._

_So she runs off the Nationals stage, throws her arms around Jesse’s neck, and kisses him because it feels like what she’s supposed to do in that situation. Kissing Jesse is nice, if a little unremarkable, and his arms feel safe around her. It’s so, so easy, and is totally expected of her._

_She shoves aside the twinge of discomfort she feels, the little stirring in her chest whispering that she’d done the wrong thing and does her very best to ignore not only how little she’d actually felt in the kiss but also how grateful she is that Chloe had disappeared from her line of sight. For some reason, she doesn’t want Chloe to see her just then._

_Kissing Jesse and later deciding to date him, along with her reunion with the Bellas, eliminates that lonely feeling. Again, she isn’t entirely sure which part of the whole thing – Jesse, the Bellas, or one specific Bella – makes her feel better, and she doesn’t like thinking about it, so she plays it safe and assumes it’s Jesse._

_She kisses Jesse because she’s supposed to, because it’s easy, and because any alternative reason for her feelings scares her._

*******************

The dam in Beca’s chest cracks, the pressure building and trickling through. If Jesse pushes against it any more, it’s going to burst open and flood the rest of her life. She needs to escape but can’t make herself move; she’s frozen at the door, her brain screaming at her body to run, her body too focused on holding the dam intact to do anything else.

Jesse stands beside her, staring at her pleadingly, but he’s not touching her or even blocking the door.  She wishes he would. She wishes he could give her some excuse to be mad at him, to turn it so that it’s _his_ fault, instead of hers for being broken, for being some kind of freak who falls in love with the wrong person after three years –

“Beca, come on,” Jesse pleads, “don’t just leave. You – you can’t just leave without telling me why two days before we’re supposed to leave for LA. It’s – that’s not fair. Talk to me,” he says, reaching out a tentative hand. She jerks away before he can touch her.

“Hey, woah,” he says softly. “Just, Beca, just talk – what’s happening? Where are you going? What do you think you’re doing?”

The pressure builds and builds and builds until it’s on the tip of her tongue again ( _I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay_ ) and Beca wants to cover her ears so she doesn’t have to listen to this, to his unending questions and stupid rationality because he doesn’t understand that she needs to get away, she needs to run and hide and not be the horrible person she’s become.

The dam strains, groaning under pressure.

“Beca, my name is on a lease in LA, and you –”

The dam breaks.

“I like girls!”

It bursts free from her mouth before she can stop it, erupting in a torrent and coming out so loud it startles them both.

Jesse cuts himself off abruptly. His jaw freezes open and his eyes fly wide, glazing over until she’s not even sure he still sees her.

“I like… girls,” Beca repeats, because it’s the only thing she can think to say. She’s breathing hard, her heart threatening to smash its way free of her ribcage.

Her body finally catches up with her brain, and she turns the door handle, ready to run. Any second, Jesse’s going to register what she’d said and he’s going to call her a bitch for hiding it from him, or he’s going to recoil in disgust and call her horrible slurs, or he’s going to accuse her of being a pervert for falling for her best friend, or –

“Wait, please,” Jesse says, this time grabbing her arm gently and holding her in place. “Don’t… can we talk about this?”

She could still run. She knows he’d let her go, if she really tried to run. Jesse isn’t a monster. If anyone is a monster here, it’s her.

Beca steps back into the house, stomach rolling. She closes the door carefully, watching as though separated from her body as her hand falls from the handle and back to her side. She’s pretty sure her palms are sweating.

She can’t look at him. Jesse’s right; he deserves an explanation, and besides, the secret is already out there, hanging over them like a storm cloud. She moves robotically to the futon in the main room, sitting on the edge of a cushion. Her hands land on her knees and she digs her nails into the denim of her jeans to ground herself. A moment later, he sinks down next to her, exhaling loudly as he leans back into the couch.

 “Bec… how –”

“Are we the only ones here?” she asks tersely.

He pauses, and she pictures him watching her. “Yeah,” he says eventually. “Everyone else is getting ready for the party, I think.”

“Okay,” Beca breathes, fighting to bring the anxiety racing through her body to a manageable level.

“Are you okay?”

“I...  Jesse, I’m…”

“It’s okay,” he whispers. It makes her lips twitch up into a grimace because no, it’s really anything but okay. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

“I – I like girls,” she says, her eyes darting to his face.

He smiles at her, but not in a mocking way. “You said that,” he says surprisingly gently. Beca doesn’t understand why he’s not yelling at her.

“Right,” she huffs, trying to laugh at herself to ease the tension. The sound that comes out of her is strangled and dies in her throat.

“So are you…” Jesse asks after an awkward pause, his hand gesturing uselessly in midair between them. “Does that make you a, you know, a lesbian? Or, uh, bisexual… or whatever?”

Beca flinches at the use of those labels, discomfort rising in her stomach. She leans forward to cover her face with her hands, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Beca, are you –”

“I don’t know!” she groans through her hands, then pulls back to look at him. “I mean, I guess? I… I don’t know, nothing sounds right and I’m just not sure what to do and I don’t –”

“Wait, did you even like being with me?”

His question hits her like a truck, snatching the wind from her lungs.

“I – Jess...”

He keeps pressing, his eyes earnest. “The whole time we were together, did you even like me?”

Beca’s vision blurs; there’s something pressing on her chest and she can’t talk and she can’t move and she can’t _think_. The room tilts dangerously and her head swims.

“Breathe, Beca, woah –”

“I don’t know what I am!” she gasps, looking to him with wild eyes. “I don’t know what I felt! I just know I’m not straight!”

“It’s okay –”

“No it’s not!” Beca yells, her voice cracking. “How can you say that? It’s not okay! I’m so sor – I – I don’t want to be like this!”

The shock on his face as he stares at her, eyes wide, is what sends her over the edge; something crumbles within her and she buckles, feeling her face crumple as the first sob tears its way from her throat. Once she starts, she can’t stop even though she feels so stupid for crying in front of Jesse because she’s never done it before. The tears just keep coming, pulling with them her anger and disgust toward herself for being in this situation and putting Jesse through it.

But then, Jesse’s arms wrap around her, so warm and familiar that it shocks her out of her panic; she sinks into him, the angle awkward because of how they’re sitting, but she doesn’t mind. His hands rub up and down her back, trying to calm her, and she presses her face into where his neck meets his shoulder, his familiar Jesse-smell working to send a wave of calm through her. He holds her for a long time, letting her sobs quiet to soft sniffles before he speaks.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, his chin brushing her ear as he speaks. “I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have asked that. Sorry, Beca.”

Beca sniffles again. She can already feel the post-crying headache starting behind her forehead.

“Am I the first person you’ve told?” Jesse asks quietly.

She nods against his shoulder, drawing in a whimpering breath.

It makes Jesse pull her even tighter against his chest. Beca can’t believe he’s doing this, can’t believe that after everything, he’s the one comforting her. She can’t believe he even wants to touch her after what she’d said.

“Beca,” he says after a minute, his voice tight and rumbling through his chest. “Did I ever… make you do something you didn’t want to do?”

She pulls back from the hug to look at him properly. He’s apologetic, as if he already regrets asking, his face all scrunched up with worry.

Blinking in surprise, Beca replies, “No, Jess, I did…I liked being with you, and you didn’t… you never did anything like that.” She shrugs. “You’re one of my best friends and I do love you, it’s just…”

“Not in that way?” he asks, shrugging one shoulder and quirking a corner of his mouth up.

“Right,” she nods, “I’m s–”

“It’s okay,” he says before she can apologize. “Really. I kind of… sort of, think this was going to happen either way, you know?”

Beca’s winces as she thinks of the past year, during which they spoke maybe a total of three times while he was on campus. When he was in LA, their calls had been few and far in-between. She shrugs, reality settling in, and nods in reluctant agreement.

Jesse smiles at her crookedly, his eyes moving to the floor. “So, uh,” he starts hesitantly, “why didn’t you – how long have you known this about yourself?”

“I… not long,” Beca says, shifting on the futon, hoping he won’t ask her anything else about it; she doesn’t want to risk Chloe’s name leaving her lips. Thankfully, he just nods, looking thoughtful. After a moment, he sits back on the futon and turns his head to look at her sideways.

“It doesn’t really change anything, you know,” he says with a little grin.

Beca has to take a second to make sure she’d heard him right. “What do you mean?” she asks, confused. “It changes everything.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t offer any clarification.

“Jesse, weren’t you listening?” she asks, leaning forward. “I’m not – I can’t go to LA with you. We aren’t dating anymore. Don’t you –”

“I don’t mean that,” Jesse interrupts, waving her down dismissively. “I mean, like – you’re still you. I still care about you.”

Beca pauses, stunned that he could say such a thing. To her horror, her eyes prickle again and she looks away, trying to blink back the sensation before he notices.

“Where will you go, if not LA?”

His question distracts her and makes her look back at him.

“Oh, um. Well, Emily takes over the house on August… 15th?” Beca replies slowly, thinking it through even as she speaks. “So I guess I’ll stay there, maybe look for jobs until then.”

He nods, thinking over her answer. Beca runs her tongue over the front of her teeth; it hadn’t occurred to her, but she would need to start applying for jobs in… somewhere. A different kind of worry rocks her stomach at how uncertain her future has become; it’s the beginning of June, and as of August 15th, she’ll be homeless and jobless. She has enough in her savings to not need a job until the end of summer, but after that, she’s going to need an income and a place to live.

“You could still come to LA,” Jesse says, interrupting Beca’s thoughts.

“Oh, I… want to figure things out here,” Beca replies, hoping she sounds more confident than she feels. Technically, Jesse’s right. She could still go to LA with him, but as friends, and find a job there like she’d always intended to. But the thought of leaving Chloe behind right when she’s figuring _this_ out about herself rips through her painfully and she immediately discards any residual thought of LA.

Jesse shifts his weight on the futon, not quite meeting her eyes as he asks, “Is, uh, Chloe staying?”

Sometimes it kind of scares Beca how well he can read her. She can only nod, afraid to give herself away, and he just hums in response, the corners of his mouth twitching.

A natural pause falls over the room. Beca inhales deeply, reveling in the freedom of the moment; the pressure in her chest is almost nonexistent, at least for now.

“So, uh,” Jesse starts, and Beca has to stop herself from groaning; he’s using the same tone of voice he always uses before making a horrible joke. “I, uh, since we’re not together anymore, I guess this means I’m off the hook for having a crush on Keira Knightley?”

Beca blows out a stream of air through her nose, a soft laugh escaping against her will even as she shakes her head. Beside her, Jesse laughs too, bumping his shoulder into hers. Then, he freezes abruptly and grabs her shoulder.

“Wait!” he exclaims, eyes wide. “Oh my god. Do you have a crush on Keira Knightley, too?”

Even though Beca knows he’s kidding, the joke hits a little too close to home and the smile slips off her face slowly.

“Would it be weird if I did?” she asks carefully, watching Jesse out of the corner of her eye. “Like, that makes me feel a little… pervy.”

She tries to keep her tone light enough that Jesse could laugh or brush it off as a joke, but the way he looks at her, all soft eyes and a single line forming between his eyebrows, she can tell he recognizes her statement for what it really is.

“That’s not perving, Bec,” he shrugs. “That’s just… having eyes and being human. Keira Knightley is like something out of this world. That’s just fact.”

A corner of his mouth lifts into a half smile, and Beca can tell he’s kidding, but also not kidding at the same time. It makes something loosen within her and she relaxes, feeling better about something she hadn’t even realized was bothering her until that moment.

“Thanks, Jess,” she says gratefully.

He grins at her, and replies, “I got you. You know, you should talk to Cynthia Rose,” he adds, almost an afterthought.

“Huh?” she asks, thrown by the shift.

Jesse frowns. “Isn’t Cynthia Rose gay? Or whatever? She’s got that girlfriend, I thought.”

“Fiancée,” Beca corrects automatically, then pauses. “I… yeah.”

“Oh my god,” Jesse gapes at her in disbelief. “Are you telling me you actually – you forgot you have someone who knows what you’re going through? Like, in the Bellas with you?”

“I didn’t forget,” Beca replies defensively, crossing her arms. “I just… well, I thought, you know, with Worlds and everything, I didn’t want to add…” Beca trails off when Jesse’s expression becomes a little too knowing.

“Okay!” she admits, throwing her hands up. “Fine! I didn’t want anyone to know, okay! Happy?” she huffs, re-crossing her arms.

“No, I’m not happy!” Jesse says, though he’s still smiling a little. Beca’s really starting to hate that stupid, sympathetic look on his face. “You were gonna keep this a secret for… forever?” he asks incredulously.

She can’t quite meet his eyes.

“Christ,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look,” he says carefully, “you don’t have to go through this alone, Beca. You could tell her. You could tell all of them, actually,” he adds gently.

Beca shrugs, refusing to look at him. The unwelcome pressure is back in her chest now, and building, fighting against a new dam.

“They won’t think of you any differently,” Jesse speaks so quietly, it’s almost a whisper. “I promise.”

Beca can only stare at her knees. She digs the nails of one hand into the opposite arms where she has them crossed. The wall between her and Jesse might be gone now, but the wall between her and the Bellas feels thicker and sturdier than ever.

“You should talk to Cynthia Rose. It might help,” Jesse prompts once more, then adds, his tone brighter, “Besides, you’ll need someone to hang out with once I blow this popsicle stand for the sunshine of LA!”

She snorts at that and punches his shoulder, grateful for the lighter mood. He yelps in mock pain and glares at her playfully, rubbing his shoulder dramatically.

Beneath the theatrics, though, Beca can still see _her_ Jesse. Despite everything, he looks at her the same way he always does. She wonders if, just maybe, everything might be okay.


	6. Chapter 6 - Chloe

_The first time Chloe sees Beca kissing Jesse, she has to excuse herself from the Nationals stage to run to the bathroom._

_She almost doesn’t make it, but manages to barge into a stall in the otherwise empty bathroom before the first tear falls. She’s both surprised and not surprised by the jagged pain radiating through her chest; surprised because she hadn’t expected it to hurt this badly, and not surprised because a part of her has been waiting for this to happen ever since she’d fallen in love with Beca._

_She squeezes her eyes shut to block out the image of Beca and Jesse kissing, only for it to be projected on the insides of her eyelids. The memory fills her, rising like bile in her stomach._

_Leaning over the toilet, she wonders if she’s about to be sick and heaves –_

_Beca and Jesse Beca and Jesse Beca and Jesse_

_– but nothing comes up._

_It makes her chest hurt even more, so instead she lets herself semi-collapse onto the bathroom floor, her back against the stall wall and head in her hands._

_BecaandJesseBecaandJesseBecaandJesse._

_It runs together in her mind on a loop, the image of her arms around his neck and his hands on her hips._

_She should have known. Of course Beca’s straight – she’s had no reason to believe otherwise – and of course she’s seeing Jesse. She’d let herself get her hopes up, and now they’ve come crashing down around her ears. She only has herself to blame._

_After a long moment, Chloe forces herself to stand shakily from the bathroom floor. The others will likely come looking for her before too long. She wipes her face with bath tissue, then opens the stall door, wincing at her reflection in the mirror. She does her best to fix her makeup and calm herself while the pain in her chest only grows with every beat of her heart._

*******************

Chloe can’t even remember how many times over the last seven years she’s sat in the Bellas kitchen, waiting for one of the girls to come back home.

She’s seen it all. She’s waited for Stacie the morning after a wild party, for Aubrey after a big exam, for Amy after seeing Bumper, for Beca after her classes, and for all the others following everything from breaks from school, breakups with significant others, or just simply from a long day at class. She’s been there for hugs, coffee, hangover food, and to just listen. There have been good times, bad times, and times in between, and always, Chloe waits in her usual chair at the kitchen counter, waiting for her Bellas to come back to her.

She’s not sure she’s ever been this nervous before.

Well. Except for maybe one time.

Now, Chloe sits in her chair as she supervises preparation for the end-of-year-and-winning-Worlds party hosted by the Trebles. Emily stands over the twin pots boiling on the stove, one red and one green, holding a measuring cup full of water in one hand and a full bottle of vodka in the other.

“Is this right?” Emily asks, adding the cold water and vodka.

Chloe glances away from the front door to watch. “Um, you can add a little more vodka,” she replies. She has a hunch they might all need it after Beca comes home.

Emily complies, adding a generous measure of the alcohol and giggling as it splashes into the pot. “I’ve never made Jello shots before!” she says excitedly.

“I’d hope not,” Chloe smiles, “you’re only 19. We’re corrupting you.”

Shrugging, Emily replies, “What else is new, right? This feels so… rebellious.”

“It’s Bella tradition to bring red and green Jello shots to the end of year party,” Chloe responds absently, looking toward the front door again. She thought she’d heard a footstep on the porch, but when no one comes in, she figures she must have imagined it.

“And the taco dip?” Emily asks, nodding to the fridge, inside of which rests a hue pan of the dip she and Chloe had already made.

“Yep, that’s tradition too, now,” Chloe looks back to Emily. “It’s Beca’s favorite snack, so.”

Emily hesitates, and the mood in the room shifts. Chloe looks at the front door again; it’s been more than an hour. Chloe’s insides squirm as her mind runs wild with thoughts of Jesse getting angry at her, or begging Beca to give him a second chance. The idea that Beca might actually do just that – that she might return to the Bella house with the same relationship status as when she left – makes Chloe’s throat tighten and her stomach rebel.

“Beca should be back soon, right?” Emily asks, uncharacteristically softly.

All the Bellas know where Beca is and what she’s doing. It’s all thanks to Amy, of course. On the plane back from Copenhagen, Beca had been even more antisocial and sullen (Amy’s words, not Chloe’s) than usual, and Amy had pestered her about it relentlessly until Beca had finally snapped. She’d told them (well, told the whole plane, actually – she’d sort of yelled it) that she’d be dumping (Chloe’s word, not Beca’s) Jesse almost as soon as they all got back to the States.

Amy had cheered, Stacie had said, “About time,” and Flo given a prayer of thanks.

It had mollified Chloe to know that she isn’t the only one to be happy with this turn of events.

“Right, soon,” Chloe replies to Emily’s question, her throat rather dry.

Emily frowns, but before she can say anything, the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs from the second floor grabs Chloe’s attention and she looks around to see Amy and Flo arriving on the ground floor. Amy’s carrying several Wii games in her arms, including Mario Kart and Just Dance.

“Hey,” Amy says loudly, “Either of you twig bitches want to play with us?”

Flo nods. “In my country, playing games together was a great way to bond. Also, I will destroy you.”

“Ooh!” Emily hums. “Maybe after we’re done I will.”

Amy grins her approval and looks to Chloe. “Ginger?”

“I’m probably okay,” Chloe shakes her head, trying to look regretful. “Bit of a stomach ache.”

“Uh huh,” Amy stares at her for a second, her expression unreadable. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be kicking this one’s ass,” she continues, gesturing to Flo, who scoffs openly.

“That’s what you think,” she says. “Mario is in my Latin blood.”

“Mario’s Italian,” comes Stacie’s voice as she also walks down the stairs, dressed in leggings and a tight sports bra. She waves at them all, not breaking stride as she heads to the front door. “And bye, I’m gonna go for a run!”

Amy shakes her head sadly as the door closes behind Stacie. “Too much cardio,” she says dismissively before grabbing hold of Flo’s arm and dragging her into the sitting room, where Ashley’s Wii is connected to the TV.

Chloe turns back around in time to see Emily peering questioningly into the pots on the stove.

“Um, think these are done?” Emily says, her tone doubtful.

“Oh!” Chloe starts; she’d completely forgotten about the Jello shots. “Uh, probs. Think you can pour them out okay?”

Emily nods, pursing her lips at the hundred or so little cups already set out and waiting on the counter. She lifts the red pot off the stove first, clutching the handle tightly. Chloe only pretends to watch; in actuality, her ears are straining for any sign of an approaching Beca Mitchell.

Because the kitchen window is open, she hears a few birds outside, enjoying the early summer sunlight; she hears Amy and Flo in the other room, already trash-talking each other (“Eat my banana peel, you oversized road mountain!” “I will not! How _dare_ you?”); she hears what might by Ashley and Jessica upstairs performing their weekly furniture rearrangement; she thinks she can even hear the wind whispering through the leaves outside. A car door slams at the house next door and she jumps, but thankfully, Emily doesn’t notice as she replaces the now-empty red Jello pot and reaches for the green.

Chloe sighs, resigned to waiting even longer. At that moment, however, she hears what is most definitely footsteps on the porch. Her heart kicks into overdrive, and a second later, the door opens to reveal a haggard-looking Beca.

*******************

_Chloe feels like the worst best friend in the entire world. Normal best friends are there for each other constantly. They can talk about anything and everything without the other getting upset. Normal best friends have no secrets, no boundaries, and are happy for each other’s successes._

_Normal best friends support each other’s relationships._

_But Chloe can’t do that, not when Beca’s in a relationship with someone other than her. Every time Beca mentions Jesse, Chloe can feel the way her face freezes for just a heartbeat before she can try to arrange her expression into something halfway supportive. Every time she sees Beca and Jesse together – on campus, at parties, at a cappella competitions – and she notices how much he touches and kisses her, it sends molten jealousy and rage pouring through her veins. She’s not sure what makes her angrier; that Jesse will never be able to treat Beca like she deserves, or the fact that she’d let herself fall for Beca in the first place._

_All Chloe knows for sure is that despite Jesse, she’s still falling more by the day. And Beca can never know about it._

_She’s the worst best friend._

*******************

Beca wanders into the kitchen, eyes downcast and headphones on. Even from several feet away, Chloe can hear the heavy bass pouring through them, a sure sign that Beca’s mind is far away. Chloe isn’t sure she even sees her or Emily, as focused as she is on the floor. It’s an impression that’s only verified when Beca starts in surprise when Emily greets her brightly mid-Jello pour.

“Oh! Hey, guys,” Beca says in a forced-casual tone as she slides the headphones down around her neck and pauses the music on her phone. She leans against the counter stiffly, her eyes roaming over the setting red Jello while Emily finishes up the green.

“Hey,” Chloe says, trying not to sound as breathless as she feels. She’s pretty sure her palms have started sweating. “How’d it go with…?” Chloe trails off, not wanting to say his name.

She wipes her palms on her jeans under the table as discreetly as she can.

Beca sighs and brings up a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “It was – yeah, it went okay.”

“So...” Chloe prods. She doesn’t want to seem like she’s prying, but really, the suspense is killing her, and she has to know what happened. She schools her features as well as she can, trying to keep a neutral mask even though she feels like lunging over the counter and shaking Beca until she confirms or denies (god, she’d better confirm) a breakup.

“What?” Beca asks tiredly, then her expression shifts to understanding. “Oh, uh, we’re done, yeah. I guess I’m staying here, at least for the summer.”

_Yes! Yes yes yes yes!_ Chloe’s chest expands with happiness, which she immediately tries to dampen down. What is wrong with her? She shouldn’t be this excited for her best friend’s failed relationship… and yet.

It means that Beca is staying.

“Oh, Bec…” Chloe trails off, not trusting her voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just, headache.”

Emily returns the emptied pot to the stove, all of the Jello shots poured and cooling. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, Beca, that can’t be easy. Er, Jesse, I mean, not – not the headache.”

“It’s okay, Legacy,” Beca mutters.

“Yeah, well,” Emily says bracingly, moving forward quickly to wrap Beca in a massive hug.

Beca’s “ _Mmph!_ ” of surprise is muffled into Emily’s shoulder; Chloe’s grateful for the distraction, because it gives her the time she needs to again control the excitement and relief burning through her limbs at the prospect of having Beca in her life for another three months in the Bella house.

And, maybe, since she’s single for the first time in three years...

Chloe clamps down hard on that thought before it can fully form, annoyed at herself for being so incredibly inappropriate. Beca’s relationship with Jesse ended barely thirty seconds ago, and besides, Beca is still straight and still her best friend. It’s not right for her to be thinking like this. Chloe’s face warms with the familiar shame. To hide it, she pretends to count the completed Jello shots until Beca extracts herself from Emily’s arms.

“Great, that’s – um, thanks, Em,” Beca mumbles, not making eye contact with either of them as she reaches into the cupboard for a yellow plastic cup, then turns to the sink and busies herself with pouring a glass of water. Chloe tries not to read too much into it that Beca had chosen what has long been established as _her_ cup.

She fails.

Emily smiles at the back of Beca’s head. “Yeah, anytime. I really am sorry, Beca.”

Despite her elation, Chloe somehow manages to remember to ask, “Did Jesse take it okay?” It’s not because she cares about Jesse’s feelings about the breakup (she really, really doesn’t care), but because she knows it’s what she’s supposed to do in this situation.

She doesn’t quite have it in her to apologize, though, like Emily has twice already. She can’t outright lie to her best friend.

Beca nods, a strange expression on her face. “Yeah, he – he yelled a little, but once everything passed, I think he was, you know, okay. I guess we both knew it was gonna happen sooner or later,” she shrugs.

Chloe feels a muscle in her own face twitch in annoyance at the image of Jesse yelling.

“He didn’t –?” she starts protectively, trying to refrain from marching right into the Treble house and punching him.

“Oh, no,” Beca dismisses, shaking her head. “He actually was good about it. He understood more after I – after.” Beca stops abruptly and she hurriedly raises her water to her lips to take a long swig of it.

Warning bells echo off the walls of Chloe’s mind, but before she can ask exactly what “after” means, Emily leans forward.

“Are things weird now?” she asks, maybe thinking of the party later. “You know, between you two?”

Beca shakes her head. “Nah, I think we’ll be friends,” she says, sounding surprised about it. She takes another sip of her water, then asks abruptly, “Is there taco dip?”

It’s a transparent change of subject, but Chloe doesn’t mind; she doesn’t really want to think about Jesse any more than necessary.

Emily beams and wordlessly opens the refrigerator, gesturing grandly to the dip, offering it to Beca. However, Beca shakes her head and grins. “I’ll wait until the party,” she says.

Chloe’s eyebrows lift in surprise. She’d assumed Beca wasn’t planning on going to the party. But, she’s not about to complain; she’ll take any time she can get with Beca, especially now that she knows they’ll still be living in the same house for a while.

Beca finishes her water with a last gulp, then places the cup next to the sink to be washed later. She gives Emily a thin-lipped smile, and turns to leave the kitchen, presumably headed for the stairs. The path takes her right past where Chloe sits.

Automatically, Chloe rises from her chair, expecting to draw Beca into a hug as Emily had done. Instead, however, Beca veers around her sharply.

“Oh, um –” Beca says, but keeps moving without a backward glance at Chloe, though her ears turn a light shade of pink. She reaches the stairs and bounds up them, taking two at a time.

Chloe can only stare after her retreating back. She hears Beca reach the landing, then nothing.

Robotically, Chloe lowers herself to perch back in her chair. The excitement in her chest is gone, replaced by an empty ache. She looks up, half-expecting to see Emily staring at her with the same confusion she feels, but Emily doesn’t seem to have noticed anything as she stands at the sink runs hot water to wash the dishes.

Upstairs, Chloe hears someone knock on a door, then the sounds of that door opening and closing.

Chloe swallows, her mouth suddenly cottony. “Em, if you’ve got this, I’ll…”

“Yep!” Emily chirps over her shoulder, hands already plunged into the soapy water.

Chloe stands again from her chair, then turns and makes her way up the stairs on autopilot. She should be happy and excited that Beca’s staying in town, but all she can think about is the detached look on Beca’s face as she had stepped around her in the kitchen to avoid touching her.

God. She’d been sure it was because of Jesse. She’d hoped it was because of Jesse.

She makes for her room, passing Cynthia Rose’s closed door as well as Stacie’s. Cynthia Rose must be playing music, she notes dimly, registering voices from inside the room but unable to focus on them.

If Jesse isn’t the reason Beca won’t touch her… then that means Chloe is. She must have done something or said something, or – icy panic fills Chloe’s veins as she steps into her bedroom. What if – somehow – Beca’s figured it out? If Beca knows how she feels?

Jesus. God. Shit.

That must be it. That has to be it. Beca knows, and she’s grossed out and doesn’t want Chloe to touch her anymore because of it. She thinks that Chloe’s a creepy, weird predator, and doesn’t want anything to do with her.

Chloe’s heart drops and she can feel herself spiraling. She can’t not touch Beca; that’s how she shows she cares about someone, and, god, if Beca’s really planning on staying in the Bella house for the rest of the summer, then how the _hell_ is Chloe supposed to be around her, if there’s this wall up now between them, and it’s just –

Breathing hard, Chloe throws herself to her laptop and wrenches it open, pulling up the first playlist she can find on it. She plays it at full volume, focusing as hard as she can on the music and trying her hardest to not _think._

*******************

_The first time Chloe can tell Beca and Jesse have had sex, she has to excuse herself from the kitchen to run to the bathroom._

_She’s sitting in the kitchen with Stacie and Flo, both of whom nurse severe hangovers from the previous night’s “Welcome Back to School Hell” Treble party. Chloe, though, is completely fine as per usual. Physically, anyway._

_Her mind churns far more than her stomach does; she hopes that she’d been imagining things, that she hadn’t actually seen what she’d thought she’d seen before leaving the party last night. She hopes that Beca’s safely in her attic room upstairs, sleeping off the hangover._

_Chloe had messed up; she’d lost track of Beca at the Treble party. Ordinarily, she barely lets Beca out of her sight at those parties. There’s too much risk of some random guy hitting on her, or for her to become too drunk and get handsier with Jesse than she normally would. Last night, however, Beca had somehow slipped under Chloe’s radar. She’d assumed that Beca had gotten tired, had left the party early, and was already out of the Treble house. So, Chloe had rounded everyone up and had been on the way out the door when something, a noise maybe, had made her glance back into the house._

_She’d caught just the barest glimpse of the back of someone who could have been Beca rising from the stairs, apparently having tripped, and being guided up them by someone Chloe couldn’t quite see but might have been Jesse. She told herself then – and she tells herself now – that it wasn’t Beca and Jesse, that it was someone else looking for a vacant bedroom, because she thought Beca was planning on making Jesse wait longer._

_Chloe takes a deep breath through her nose, inhaling the scent of coffee in the air. She’d been mistaken last night. Beca’s in her room upstairs, and she’s going to come down any minute, and the knot in Chloe’s stomach will all have been for nothing and it won’t matter that she didn’t follow her gut instinct to go back into the Treble house in search of Beca. Chloe’s almost managed to convince herself that she hears Beca’s footsteps coming down the stairs._

_That is, until the front door swings open and a yawning Beca shuffles through, heading immediately into the kitchen and the coffee pot. She’s wearing the same clothes as the night before and sporting a massive hickey on her neck that makes the knot in Chloe’s stomach twist and tighten._

_Beca has never spent the night after a party before._

_She’s never shown up wearing the same outfit the next morning._

_As soon as Stacie sees Beca, she lets out a squeal that makes everyone flinch. “Oh my god,” she cries, “you – you and Jesse – you –”_

_Beca lifts an eyebrow at Stacie’s stuttering, a pink tinge creeping up her neck and into her cheeks._

_Chloe sits and watches as if from far away. A brick appears in her throat, scraping down her esophagus to plop into her stomach, where it stays. No, maybe Stacie’s wrong, maybe Beca just slept on his futon or something, or just slept next to him, maybe that’s it. Chloe wants to cover her ears and eyes, wants to hide, wants to block out any affirmation that Beca – her Beca – and Jesse –_

_“You Hunted! And got some!” Stacie finally manages, utterly delighted. Even Flo perks up at that, looking at Beca with renewed interest._

_Chloe wants desperately for Beca to deny it, to make a face and hide in her room like every other time Stacie’s brought up her and Jesse’s sex life, to explain that no, she’s waiting for someone better to come along, but –_

_A corner of Beca’s mouth lifts into an awkward and slightly sheepish smile, and her eyes flick around the room, hesitating at Chloe’s for a second. Then, Beca nods once, confirming it, and resumes filling her coffee mug._

_The world falls from under Chloe’s feet at the same time she bolts up from her chair and throws herself toward the stairs. Even as she’s climbing them, taking two at a time, she can hear Stacie’s voice: “How was he? What did you think? It was your first time, right? Did he ask you to –” and then she’s covering her ears as she runs, not wanting to know what he asked Beca to do, not wanting to know what Beca felt and how Jesse is in bed._

_She’s both surprised and not surprised that it had finally happened; surprised because it’s been almost a year and a half since Beca and Jesse started dating, and she’d been starting to think – hope – it would never happen, and also not surprised because she’s been expecting this to happen from the first time she saw them kiss._

_God, she hopes he treated her like she deserves, took the time to talk it through with her, make sure everything felt good for her, went slowly so she never felt any pain._

_Before she can stop herself, she’s picturing it as she runs to the bathroom –_

_Jesse undressing her, Jesse on top of her, Beca’s face, Beca’s bare body, Beca’s hands on his back,_

_Beca and Jesse, Beca and Jesse Beca and Jesse BecaandJesseBecaandJesseBecaandJesse_

_– and she almost doesn’t make it, but manages to fling herself into the bathroom and lock the door before she’s violently sick into the toilet._

_Later, she tells Beca – when Beca asks – that she must have drank too much the night before._

_For some reason, Beca believes her._


	7. Chapter 7 - Beca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Internalized homophobia, use of homophobic slurs in discussion, and homophobic language.

Beca raises her arm to knock, then drops it. She can’t do this. She really, really can’t.

She turns away from the closed door and takes three steps toward the stairs leading to her attic bedroom. She stops, looks back at the door, takes one step toward it, then stops again. She spins around and takes two steps toward her attic room.

She can still hear Emily and Chloe in the kitchen. She can still picture the look on Chloe’s face when she’d refused the hug Chloe had tried to offer. The wall between them, foreign and steadfast, had been too much.

Beca turns back to the door, reaching it in four strides.

*******************

_“I thought you liked boys,” Sheila’s voice rings out, harsh in the quiet of their living room as they watch_ The Notebook _together. Beca glances up from her text conversation with music store co-worker Carrie Lawson to the TV, where what’s-her-name and what’s-his-name are kissing (she never bothered to learn the character’s names). She’d been bored, but apparently, as Sheila stares at her, waiting for an answer, she should have been enthralled by the kissing on screen._

_“They’re… yeah, of course I like boys,” Beca says, annoyance spiking at even having to answer such a question._

_Sheila stares at her for a moment but doesn’t comment._

_\----_

_“What do you mean, she likes both boys and girls?” Sheila asks as if it was the strangest thing in the world. “That’s not possible. She’s just confused. She likes boys.”_

_“I don’t know, that’s just what she tells people,” Warren shrugs over his dinner plate._

_“Your niece told you this?”_

_“No, she told her mom, and her mom told me,” Warren corrects._

_“You know, I’m not religious, but I do think it’s gross and unnecessary.”_

_Beca stares at her plate in silence. She hasn’t seen her cousin in years, so her recently-discovered sexual orientation is not of any particular interest. She picks at her food, trying to ignore the angry tone in Sheila’s voice, unreasonably upset about someone she’s never even met._

_\----_

_Beca’s home for Christmas Day during her senior year at Barden. She, Warren, and Sheila are watching the news after Christmas dinner, their yearly tradition. If Beca’s mom was still around, she’d berate them for not watching a Christmas movie, but then, she’s not around, so they’re watching the news._

_Beca is looking forward to this time next year, when she’ll be far away from Sheila, living with Jesse in LA. Beca frowns at her lap, unsure why the thought of LA fills her with so much anxiety, but before she can dwell on it too long, Sheila interrupts her thoughts with a loud “tut” of annoyance._

_“Christ, I don’t know why the whole thing about gay marriage is such a big deal,” Sheila scoffs, waving a hand at the news anchor currently describing the rising tensions across the country. “It’s been illegal for this long, so why bother changing anything now?”_

_Warren shifts in his armchair, but doesn’t say anything, and neither does Beca._

_Her heart pangs when she thinks of Cynthia Rose and her girlfriend, and of Chloe and her open sexuality. A small, quiet something stirs in the back of Beca’s mind, a flicker of indignation that, for some reason, has more to do with herself than with either of her friends, but she shoves it away, slamming it into a drawer in the far reaches of her mind._

*******************

Before Beca can change her mind, she raises her fist and knocks three times on the bedroom door.

A muffled, “Yeah?” sounds from within, so with a quick breath, Beca eases open the door a crack and peeks her head around the corner.

Cynthia Rose is sitting on her bed, laptop open on her extended legs, and a notebook at her side.

“Hey…” Beca says, giving a jerky half-wave. “Do you have a minute?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Cynthia Rose says, clicking something on her laptop before looking up. “Whassup?”

Beca steps into the bedroom Cynthia Rose shares with Lilly, though Lilly is currently missing. Beca walks further inside, carefully avoiding the clothes on the floor (Cynthia Rose’s) and eyeing the knife collection hanging on the wall (Lilly’s). She shuts the door behind her, resisting the urge to lock it.

“What’re you working on?” she asks, trying to fill the slightly awkward quiet. She’s never come to talk to Cynthia Rose in her bedroom before.

“Wedding details,” Cynthia Rose replies, rolling her eyes. “Who knew getting hitched would take all this planning?”

“Ha, yeah, it… it does that,” Beca says, unsure whether she should sit on the bed or not; she settles for pacing back and forth over the carpet, hoping it looks casual. “Lilly around?” she asks.

Cynthia Rose snorts. “Who knows what she does? She’s not here. You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” she adds, gesturing to where Beca’s pacing.

“I just, uh…” Beca trails off awkwardly. She swings her arms back and forth, clasping her hands together in front of her before letting them go. “Is it hot in here?” she asks, hearing the nervous quiver in her own voice. “It just feels, like, _really_ warm. Have you noticed that?”

She’s rambling. She knows she’s rambling, but she can’t stop. Cynthia Rose stares at her like she’s spouted a second head. Beca can’t blame her.

“Girl, stop pacing,” Cynthia Rose says, eyebrows lifted. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Beca stops, standing in the middle of the room. “I – sorry, I’m just…”

The pressure is rising in her chest again, renewed even though she’s already done this once today. Like it had been with Jesse, the words she needs are on the tip of her tongue, and yet she can’t quite get them out. It’s harder with Cynthia Rose, for some reason. She doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“Sometime today?” Cynthia Rose raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got wedding shit to do.”

“Okay. I’m – I’ve got to just. Um.”

“Be –”

“How did you know you were gay?”

Cynthia Rose blinks at her. Beca blinks back. Those hadn’t been the words she’d meant to say, not really, but now that they’re out there Beca realizes she’s actually curious.

“Oh. Uh,” Cynthia Rose recovers and looks down at the bedspread with a crooked smile. “There was a girl my junior year of high school that I couldn’t get out of my head. One day, I figured out why.”

Beca waits for her to continue, but then realizes that that’s it. The casual way Cynthia Rose says it astounds her.

“Oh. So it started with that girl?” she asks, wanting to hear more.

Cynthia Rose glances up at her again, frowning a little. After a moment, she takes her laptop off her legs and closes it, setting it aside. “There were hints,” she says with a shrug, “crushes I didn’t realize were crushes, and I was never ‘guy crazy.’ That kind of thing.”

Beca nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s… yeah.” For the first time in years, she lets herself remember Alexis the soccer player and Carrie the co-worker. Each memory hits her in the gut, filling her with unease at the undeniable truth. It’s not just beautiful Germans and perfect redheads she’s noticed.

“Any reason?” Cynthia Rose asks, the corners of her mouth lifted.

“Nope!” Beca says quickly.

Cynthia Rose raises an eyebrow.

“No reason,” Beca shakes her head. “None. Nope! I mean... um.”

Beca really hates that knowing look. Somehow, it looks the same on Cynthia Rose’s face as it did on Jesse’s. The dam in her chest strains under pressure, ready to break again; she exhales slowly, closing her eyes, and decides that this time, she’s going to release the buildup on her own terms.

“I…” she starts, eyes still closed. “I think I might be, sort of, kind of… okay, I don’t think, I guess I – I know… I’m into girls.”

There’s a pause. Beca’s eyes have glued themselves shut.

“Oh. You serious?” Cynthia Rose asks. She sounds… not as surprised as Beca thinks she should.

“Y-yeah,” Beca breathes.

“Okay.”

Bed springs creak and Beca can hear material shifting, and then the unmistakable sound of typing fills the room. Beca wrenches her eyes open to see Cynthia Rose focused on her laptop again, looking as though she’s already forgotten Beca’s even there.

“Aren’t you – wait, what?” Beca asks, thrown. She knows she sounds whiny, but she’d been expecting a little more of a response.

“What do you want me to say?” Cynthia Rose asks, her eyes never leaving her computer screen. “Congrats? Join the club?”

Definitely feeling awkward now, Beca shifts her weight and says, “I mean, aren’t you… surprised?”

Cynthia Rose pauses her typing and looks up. “Not really,” she snorts.

“But,” Beca gapes, “How did you –”

“Really? You’re gonna ask that?” Cynthia Rose stares incredulously.

“Uh –”

“I’ve known since you lost your shit drooling over that German lady,” Cynthia Rose smirks. “That ain’t subtle.”

Beca cringes and stares at the wall over Cynthia Rose’s head. She’s not really sure what she expected. More fanfare, maybe? Perhaps a band? She almost wants to laugh at herself and wonders if maybe she should just go.

Just as she’s about to turn around and leave, tail between her legs, Cynthia Rose closes her laptop again with a click. Setting it aside, she scoots to make room on the bed. “Wanna talk for a minute?” she asks, crossing her legs.

The tension flies from Beca’s body and she immediately feels better. “That would be great,” she says gratefully. “Uh, if you’re not busy.”

“Nah. This is more important,” Cynthia Rose says, patting the end of her bed.

Smiling a little, Beca walks over and sits on the edge of bed with her legs dangling over the side. She can feel Cynthia Rose’s eyes on the side of her face but can’t quite bring herself to look directly at her just yet.

“So,” Cynthia Rose begins once it’s obvious Beca isn’t going to start. “How’re you doing with it? I’m guessing it’s new? Like you just figured it out?”

Fiddling with her hands in her lap, Beca says quietly, “Since the retreat.”

If the answer surprises Cynthia Rose, she doesn’t comment. “Any questions?”

_Only about a million_ , Beca thinks. The questions tumble over one another in her mind, each begging to be asked first and rolling into a near-incoherent mass that she has no idea how to untangle. She takes a deep breath, trying to sort them out, only for the first question to force its way out before she even fully registers that it’s leaving her lips.

“Um, I guess, do you ever… uh, feel weird about it?” she starts, still unable to look at Cynthia Rose.

“Weird?” Cynthia Rose tilts her head.

“Yeah,” Beca shrugs, staring at the floor without seeing it. “Like. Maybe it’s not… normal?”

There’s a dense pause, and for a second Beca worries she’s been offensive already. She forces herself to look up and over at Cynthia Rose, only for her apology to catch in her throat at the sympathy in Cynthia Rose’s eyes.

“Uh, did your parents talk about this kind of thing much?” Cynthia Rose asks quietly.

“Um,” Beca swallows, hearing her mom’s whispered, _I’ll always love you, no matter what_ echo in her ears _._ She shuts it down and replies, “Not exactly… and the step-mom doesn’t like to. I guess she’s, um, homophobic?”

A strange expression flicks across Cynthia Rose’s face and she sighs. “That happens,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Beca nods, a lump in her throat.

Cynthia Rose continues, “So, anyway… there’s not really a great way to… it’s hard to describe what’s ‘normal,’ you know?” she says, lifting her hands to make air quotes.

“Okay, but,” Beca hesitates, trying to figure out what she wants to say. “Did you ever feel… I don’t know… gross?”

Cynthia Rose winces, then nods. “Yeah. I think a lot of people do. At first, anyway,” she says, clearing her throat. “It’s just… if you don’t see it or talk about it growing up, it seems weird. Gross, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Beca huffs, relieved that Cynthia Rose knows what she means and isn’t offended. “And did that make you… I mean,” Beca shrugs, the words lodged in the back of her throat.

“What, B?”

“Did you… could you... _like_ that part of yourself?” Beca whispers, suddenly unable to look at Cynthia Rose again.

Cynthia Rose snorts, but it’s not in amusement. “Not at all,” she replies grimly. “For a long time, I _hated_ it. I thought it was the worst thing that could happen to me.”

Beca’s eyes fly to Cynthia Rose’s face in surprise. “Then –”

Cynthia Rose cuts her off. “But what’re you gonna do? Just hate yourself forever for something you can’t change?”

Beca shrugs uncomfortably, dropping her head. “It just doesn’t feel right,” she mumbles. “I’m not… I don’t…” she stammers, struggling to put voice to the boiling shame buried deep in her gut. For the first time in her life, she truly hates some aspect of who she is, and it’s eating her alive. It makes her eyes sting and she blinks hard.

“Hey,” Cynthia Rose jumps in. “You don’t need to feel bad about it. It’s not like you asked for it. It just is.”

Beca rolls her lips together, swallowing against the lump in her throat. “I just,” she exhales shakily, her voice tight. “I feel so – god, I just feel _so_ guilty. And I’m tired of it,” she huffs, looking up at the ceiling to make her eyes stop watering.

“You don’t have to feel guilty for anything. It’s who you are.”

“But I don’t want to be like this,” Beca whispers, her hands clenching in her lap. She knows she’s whining – she can hear it in her own voice – and she knows it’s pointless, but it’s still important to her that everyone understands she didn’t ask for this.

“I used to feel like that, too,” Cynthia Rose says bracingly.

“How do I –”

“You’re not comfortable with yourself yet,” Cynthia Rose interrupts. “That’s okay. You’ve just gotta try to get comfortable with it.”

“How?” Beca repeats desperately.

Cynthia Rose leans back, looking at the ceiling in thought while she talks. “It’s different for everyone. Talking about it is good. You really gotta normalize it for yourself, maybe read some books or watch some lesbian movies –”

“What, porn?” Beca blurts, feeling warm and awkward.

Cynthia Rose just grins. “Nah. You do that if you want, but I meant real movies. With plot. You just gotta be careful with queerbaiting.”

“What’s that?” Beca asks, starting to feel like she’s a toddler, asking question after question.

“Uh, it’s when media advertises as if it’s gay, then it’s not,” she explains, a sour look on her face.

Beca stays silent, not quite understanding.

“Um, so,” Cynthia Rose tries again, running a hand over her short hair. “It’s advertising queer storylines to get queer viewers, but then not having the characters actually get together.”

“Oh,” Beca pauses. “Does that happen a lot?”

“More than it should.” Cynthia Rose shrugs, looking disappointed. “Yeah, a few years ago, there was a big thing with Universal Studios making it seem like the main chicks in this one movie franchise were gonna get together, ‘cuz it’s what lots of fans wanted. Had a big ad for it and everything, but it never happened in the movie.”

“That sounds pretty shitty.”

“Yeah, but hey, there’s always fanfiction.”

Beca stops for a second, not sure she’d heard right. “Uh, what the hell is fanfiction?”

Cynthia Rose blinks, then grins. “Damn, you got a lot to learn.”

Grudgingly, Beca cracks a smile too. “Feels like it.”

There’s a natural lull in the conversation, and Beca looks down again. The sounds of the other Bellas leak through Cynthia Rose’s closed door: it sounds like Amy and Flo are playing a video game in the sitting room, maybe Mario Kart, judging from Amy’s muffled yells of “Die, Bowser, die!” Beca wonders if Chloe’s still sitting in the kitchen with Emily, or if she’s moved to her room only a few doors down from where they sit now.

Chloe. Beca lets her eyes slide closed. God. Seeing her in the kitchen after breaking up with Jesse had been almost too much. It had taken everything in her to turn down Chloe’s hug. It wouldn’t be fair to Chloe right now, not when she’s feeling like this. It’s not right to put Chloe in this situation, pulling her down with her in the public eye.

Beca reopens her eyes, her next question already rolling off her tongue.

“How – I mean, are people ever… mean to you?” she asks hesitantly.

Cynthia Rose smiles at her humorlessly, her lips pressed together. “Well, my wedding has to happen in Maine because it’s illegal in most states around here. And because of that, my fiancée’s grandma can’t come to see the ceremony, because she’s sick and can’t travel.”

Beca flinches at the anger in Cynthia Rose’s voice, though she knows it’s not directed at her.

“Sometimes,” Cynthia Rose continues, “when I’m with my girlfriend, people stare, or get angry. Sometimes they look away, all offended. Sometimes they say things.”

“What kind of things?” Beca hears herself ask. She wants to take it back, but Cynthia Rose doesn’t seem to mind.

“Slurs, mostly. Dyke. Fag. Whore. Slut. Pervert. Diseased. That kind of thing.”

Beca sits in stunned disbelief. “You’ve been called all that?”

Cynthia Rose nods as if it’s no big deal. “It happens some places more than others. A lot of the time, people don’t really care.”

Realizing how normal all that is for Cynthia Rose to experience sets Beca’s teeth on edge and makes her blood boil. Sheila’s voice barges into Beca’s mind then, harsh and judgmental. _You know, I’m not religious, but I do think it’s gross._

“And… your family?” Beca asks carefully.

Cynthia Rose shifts her position in the bed, uncrossing then re-crossing her legs. “They weren’t thrilled, but it’s getting better,” she says slowly. “They’re happy I’m happy.”

Another pause fills the space between them while Beca thinks about her own dad and Sheila. Glancing at the alarm clock on the bed stand, Beca sees she’s already been in Cynthia Rose’s room for almost 45 minutes. She shifts on the bed, crossing her legs.

“Anything else?” Cynthia Rose asks in a tone that lets Beca know she’s welcome to stay.

Beca shrugs, running her tongue over the front of her teeth. “So… you’re… lesbian?”

Cynthia Rose nods.

“Ah, okay,” Beca says, then looks down, embarrassed. “I’m not – I don’t really… I don’t know what I am.”

She waits, then glances up when Cynthia Rose doesn’t reply.

“Like, I don’t know if I’m… lesbian, bi, pan, whatever. I don’t know,” she says, the volume of her voice rising with every word. “Isn’t that – I mean, how can I not know this about myself?” she asks desperately, pressing her lips together tightly to keep her chin from trembling. She takes a deep breath, trying to regain control of her emotions.

Tactfully, Cynthia Rose chooses that moment to become interested in her bedspread. She picks at it, running her fingers over the patterns, until Beca feels safe enough to clear her throat and regain her attention. Cynthia Rose looks up, sympathy etched into her features.

“It’s okay not to know,” she murmurs. “You can use any label you want. Or none. Or just ‘gay’ or ‘queer.’ It’s okay.”

Beca smiles tightly, the muscles in her cheeks straining. “People keep telling me it’s okay, but it doesn’t feel okay.”

“It’s gonna take time, and if it never feels okay, well. That happens. But it _is_ okay. Really.”

Her throat tightens and Beca can’t reply for a moment. She follows Cynthia Rose’s lead and examines the bedspread closely.

After a long moment, Cynthia Rose leans toward her, the bed creaking a little with the movement.

“You said you don’t know what you are?” she asks quietly.

Beca nods mutely.

“You’re _Beca_ ,” Cynthia Rose emphasizes. It makes Beca look up, their eyes locking. “That’s what you are. Knowing this, being – you know, whatever… it doesn’t change your value as a person. You’re still our tiny, anti-social, amazing captain. You’re still you, just... more you.”

By the end of that, Beca’s pressing her lips together again as tightly as she can. Despite that, the pressure in her chest eases and allows her to breathe again. From downstairs comes a loud crash, followed by some muffled yelling that sounds like Amy. Beca ignores it.

Tracing the patterns on the bedspread, Beca glances over and asks tentatively, “Would you change it, if you could?”

Cynthia Rose purses her lips and frowns, sitting back a little. “No one’s asked me that before,” she says. “Shit, let me think.”

Beca waits for her, still fiddling with the bedspread. She’s not sure what answer she’s looking for, but right now, she knows that she’d change herself if she could.

“Well,” Cynthia Rose begins, “Life would have been easier if I was straight. But then, I wouldn’t be with my fiancée,” she pauses, the expression on her face so tender that it makes Beca want to look away. She continues, “It’s who I am, and I’m happy. Some people don’t like me for it, but… I don’t really give a flying fuck about them, so. No. I wouldn’t change it. Some other people might, but I wouldn’t.”

Nodding, Beca stares at the floor and lets that sink in. It’s nice, and it makes her wonder if, in the future, she’ll have that with someone; that kind of happiness that lets her forget what other people might say about her. Briefly, she lets herself fantasize about a future with Chloe, but then pushes it away, guilt twinging through her.

“What’re you thinking?” Cynthia Rose asks, startling Beca a little.

“Oh, uh – I think this helped,” Beca replies truthfully. And then, because she doesn’t know what else to do, she says, “Thanks, dude.”

“Anytime. This shit ain’t fun alone,” Cynthia Rose smiles grimly.

That statement makes Beca’s insides squirm and twist with anxiety. “I have to tell the others?”

Cynthia Rose shakes her head, frowning. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she assures. “But they’ll support you. Those aca-bitches’ll joke about it, but they’ll support you.”

It makes Beca laugh, and just like that, the tension is broken. She’s out of questions, and she’s bothered Cynthia Rose for long enough already. She awkwardly pats Cynthia Rose’s knee, then stands from the bed, stretching a little after sitting for a while. As she picks her way around the clothes on the floor, Cynthia Rose speaks again, her voice teasing.

“When are you gonna ask Chloe out?”

Shit.

Beca freezes, hoping she misheard but knowing she didn't. She whirls around, scared that if Cynthia Rose knows, everyone knows, even Chloe, and that’s terrifying.

“Oh my god, is it that obvious?” she asks, her voice high and scared-sounding.

Cynthia Rose’s eyebrows lift. “Woah, calm down. Not obvious unless you know what to look for.”

Beca exhales shakily, running a hand through her hair. She really doesn’t want to talk about Chloe, but…

“Is it weird?” flies past her lips in a rush, and she feels her face warm even though she knows there’s no reason to be embarrassed in front of Cynthia Rose.

Cynthia Rose shrugs, seemingly indifferent as she reaches again for her laptop. “She’s hot, nice, and she cares about the Bellas. Nothing weird about it, really.”

Beca can only stare, surprised yet again at the lack of reaction. The way Cynthia Rose says it makes her feelings for Chloe seem almost normal. Not creepy or messed up, but natural. It’s nice.

But, still.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” Beca asks, though she knows Cynthia Rose isn’t the kind of person to do that.

Sure enough, she shakes her head. “Nah. That’s up to you.”

“Right,” Beca breathes, relieved. “Yeah. Um. Thanks, again, for…” she gestures vaguely, not sure she can find a word big enough.

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Cynthia Rose says. “If you need to come back, you know where I live.”

Beca smiles at the joke as Cynthia Rose powers up her laptop, probably to look at more wedding things. With a final one-handed wave, Beca opens the door and slides out of it. She closes it softly behind her with a click, and starts to make her way for the stairs to her bedroom, feeling lighter than she has in a while.

“Beca, can I – do you have a minute?”

She stops dead at the sound of Chloe’s voice, soft and fragile. She turns slowly to see her, framed in the doorway to her bedroom at the end of the hall.

“I…”

*******************

_Amy isn’t in there, the door to their attic bedroom door is locked, and she’s pretty sure the rest of the Bellas are downstairs getting ready to watch a movie of their own. She’s still not sure how she feels about all living in a house together, but the first few months have gone smoothly enough._

_She knows it’s a little risky, doing this right before a Bella Movie Night, but it’s been a long week, and she has barely seen Jesse, and, well, she has needs._

_Plus, she’s more than a little curious._

_The laptop in her hands feels like holding a ticking time bomb. It’s painting a target on her back, one that screams her innermost thoughts for the world to see and judge, when she doesn’t even know her own feelings for sure. She knows, rationally, that she has no reason to feel weird about this, about what she’s going to do. People do it all the time, right? That’s why there’s a whole industry around it._

_She opens an incognito tab and searches until she finds what she’s looking for. It’s not like this is her first time watching porn. It’s just… this kind of porn – two women – is different. She feels weird about it, as if it’s dirtier than male-female porn._

_It takes her a while to find a video. There are plenty to choose from, but it’s not until she finds one with a pretty redhead that she feels brave enough to click on the icon._

_When the opening cheesy music starts, guilt and embarrassment flare through her chest; she has to pause the video and count to twenty before she can continue._

_Once she does, it’s… different. There’s no penis dangling obscenely, which is a plus. The women are attractive and young, maybe a little older than college age, but not by much. Beca finds herself staring at them, watching how their eyes flick to each other’s lips and how their fingers caress one another's shoulders and stomachs._

_It’s not bad, maybe more male-gazey than she’d like, but Beca still finds herself more interested in it than she’d been expecting. Her unease slowly fades to curiosity as the short movie progresses._

_On screen, their lips meet._

_Beca wonders what it would feel like to kiss a girl._

_Their lips seem to fit together well, and there’s no push or dominating feeling that she gets from watching male-female videos. It’s softer, somehow, and she watches as they undress, warmth creeping up her neck._

_When the naked women land on the conveniently-placed couch, she stares at what she can see of their breasts, their hands, their hair, the way the muscles move in the back of the girl on top as she rocks forward, bracketed between the other’s legs. The girl under her sure seems to enjoy it._

_Beca shifts under her laptop restlessly._

_She wonders what it would feel like to be on top of a girl like that._

_Beca’s hands twitch against the laptop and she leans in a little, trying to get a closer view. Her stomach swoops and tenses with every forward thrust – is it still a thrust when a girl does it? – and the whimpers and moans coming from her laptop make her mouth go dry._

_When the redhead on top moves backward to kneel off the side of the couch, her head between the other girl’s thighs, Beca’s hips lift into her laptop unconsciously. Her breaths come faster with every passing second, and her heart pounds in her ears._

_The girl leans in, her mouth opening, and Beca’s fingers gravitate toward the button on her own jeans, ready to –_

_“Beca, are you in there?” Stacie’s voice is accompanied by a loud pounding on the door._

_Beca yelps in surprise, jumping so violently she’s amazed her laptop isn’t sent flying. She immediately closes the incognito tab and slams her laptop closed, her face warming with shame even though she’s still completely alone in her room._

_“I – yeah, I’ll be right there!” she manages, her voice about an octave higher than usual._

_“You’re missing Bella bonding night!” Stacie calls back, oblivious to Beca’s discomfort. “Chloe saved you a spot on the couch.”_

_“‘Kay!” Beca returns, desperately needing Stacie to leave her alone. And stop saying words like “Chloe” and “couch.”_

_A second later, she hears footsteps retreating down the stairs leading to her room. Beca exhales shakily, her face still warm and palms sweaty. It takes a moment to calm down; whenever she closes her eyes, all she can see is how the actresses fit together and how the one – the redhead – had looked with her face between the other’s legs._

_Before Beca even realizes she’s doing it, before she can try to stop herself, her hand is flinging itself down the front of her pants. She’s shocked by how wet she is, and her eyes slam closed at the first brush of her own fingers._

_It doesn’t take long, just a few quick strokes, a teasing finger slipping in and out, and a few firm circles until she’s seeing stars. She relaxes back into her pillows after, hand still in her pants, trying to catch her breath and figure out exactly what just happened._

_She pulls her hand back slowly, and stands from the bed on shaking legs. She strips off her pants and underwear, changing them out for clean clothes. If she’s really going to do this – if she’s really going to go downstairs and face the Bellas after that – they can never know._

_Once she gets her hands to stop trembling, she opens the door and starts downstairs to the bathroom to wash her hands and clean herself up before joining the others._

*******************

“Just a minute?” Chloe asks, her eyes wide. “Please?”

She knows it’s a bad idea. A terrible idea, really. But with the way Chloe looks at her, all doe-eyes and parted lips, there’s no way she can say no. She’s never been able to say no to Chloe.

“Okay,” Beca breathes, making her way over. Chloe moves aside, letting Beca enter the room first, then follows and closes the door.

As soon as the door shuts, the pressure reappears in Beca’s chest, only barely restrained by that hastily-crafted concrete wall. Chloe’s room assaults her senses. Because it’s a single room, she’s decorated to suit her own tastes. The pale blue walls are covered with posters of bands and music artists and pictures of cities Chloe’s either been to or wants to go to; a map of Copenhagen is newly hung above her bed, which is central along the side wall. The room smells of Chloe’s floral perfume, and Beca can hear soft music emitting from the open laptop on her desk, opposite the bed.

She only moves about halfway into the room, stopping and standing in the middle of the floor. Ordinarily, she’d throw herself down on Chloe’s bed, but it feels wrong to do that now. She turns to face Chloe, keeping a careful distance between them.

“So… what’s up?” Beca asking, trying to sound casual despite feeling as if she has something lodged in her throat.

Chloe tilts her head, eyebrows drawn together. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” Beca replies slowly, feeling a little off balance. “Why?”

The corners of Chloe’s mouth turn down. “Well, I thought, you know, with... Jesse?” her voice raises at the end, making it sound like a question.

Oh, right. Jesse. Beca almost wants to laugh; her breakup with Jesse seems like days ago rather than barely two hours.

She shrugs, hoping it shrugs, hoping it seems casual. “Oh, uh. I guess it all happened for the best.”

That makes Chloe’s eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. She stares at Beca, long enough for it to become uncomfortable. The invisible wall between them is stronger than it ever has been, separating Beca and her dirty secret from the one person who can never know it.

“If that’s all…” Beca tries to hint.

“No,” Chloe stops her, shaking her head. “You just… I don’t know, the last couple of days you’ve been… is there, like, something going on? Something else, I mean?”

As soon as the question leaves Chloe, the pressure in Beca’s chest heightens, weighing her down and stealing her breath as it pounds against the dam in her chest.

_Tell her. Just tell her. What’s the worst that could happen?_

The strain must show in her expression, because Chloe’s arms come up and she steps forward as if to pull Beca into a hug. Instinctively, Beca flinches away, knowing that if Chloe touches her right then, _everything_ will come pouring out. Chloe stops dead in her tracks, hurt and shock flashing over her face.

“Bec –” she chokes, but Beca cuts her off.

“I – I have to go, I can’t –” Beca moves around Chloe, the wall maintaining that space between them.

_What if you just told her, right now? Tell her. Just tell her._

She hates this, hates knowing she’s hurting Chloe, but she can’t do anything about it because she knows if Chloe comes any closer – if Chloe touches her – she’ll jump out of her skin.

She’s almost to the door.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Chloe sounds so timid, so _confused_ , that it roots Beca to the floor instantly. She whips around, but whatever she was going to say dies in her throat at the sight of Chloe looking so small, her shoulders hunched and hands shoved into the front pockets of her jeans.

Beca’s stomach pangs as if she’s been punched.

“I – no, Chloe, you didn’t, you’re… it’s not like that,” Beca manages.

“Then why can’t I – touch you anymore?”

The pressure builds, choking her. It would be so easy to just tell her. Beca can taste it on the tip of her tongue, threatening to break free.

If Chloe presses much more, it will.

“I just need some space, okay?” Beca blurts, more harshly than she’d wanted to.

Chloe’s eyebrows draw together. “Space?”

“Yeah,” Beca huffs, looking down at her own feet.

There’s a beat of silence. Beca can hear the dam creaking in her chest, and wonders – if Chloe listens hard enough, will she hear it, too?

_I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay._

“Bec,” Chloe breathes, her hands twitching in her pockets. “Please, just… tell me if I did something to upset you. So I can fix it.”

It tears a new hole in Beca’s chest, because this isn’t Chloe’s fault at all – it’s all Beca’s. Beca is the one who messed up; she’s the one who couldn’t control herself and started creeping on her best friend. No matter what Jesse and Cynthia Rose say, it sure feels creepy and violating at this moment.

“No, it’s not you, really, I –”

“Then what? I don’t understand.”

The pressure is so much now that Beca’s amazed it hasn’t crushed her from the inside out.

“I – there’s just – I can’t,” Beca knows she’s basically pleading now; she can hear how distressed she sounds, but it’s nothing compared to the desolate expression on Chloe’s face, _nothing_ compared to how she knows she’s making Chloe feel.

“I thought we were done keeping secrets,” Chloe whispers, her voice cracking on the last word.

_Tell her. What if you just tell her, right now._

“Chlo, I – I can’t, it’s… there’s –”

_I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay –_

Chloe steps forward. “You can tell me anything.”

_– and I’ve fallen for you._

Beca steps back. “I have to go. I can’t – I just. I have to go. I’m sorry.”

She turns without looking at Chloe’s face, pulls open the door, and throws herself out. Her breathing comes in rapid spurts, making her feel lightheaded, and she just walks without destination in mind, only needing to get out.

Her legs almost give out going down the stairs, then she sees her own shaking hand reach for the front door, shoving it open. She flings herself outside and hits the sidewalk, walking rapidly, gulping down massive lungfuls of air, trying to steady the pounding of her heart and relieve the suffocating mass in her chest.

 


	8. Chapter 8 - Chloe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Internalized homophobia (of a different kind than we've seen in the past chapters)

Amy hands Chloe the mysterious, vaguely fruity concoction in a red Solo cup. “Bottoms up!” she cheers.

Chloe sips the drink carefully, too aware of the abandon with which Amy tends to make drinks. Thankfully, she mostly tastes the fruit, though she knows how strong the drink really is.

“Thanks,” Chloe smiles, then turns away from the makeshift bar Amy always sets up at the Treble house.

It’s her fourth drink in half an hour, and she knows that she shouldn’t indulge so much so quickly, but when Beca’s dancing around the party dressed in black skinny jeans and a navy top unbuttoned down to dangerous territory, it seems like the only solution.

The party is in full swing; music pounds from the speakers surrounding the pool, and all of the Bellas and Trebles are in attendance, plus several strangers from Barden’s assorted fraternities and sororities. The Jell-O shots were an instant hit; only a few remain, and Beca finished the taco dip almost single-handedly. More than once, Chloe spotted her glaring at anyone who dared to draw near it.

They haven’t spoken to each other since the earlier weirdness – Chloe refuses to think of it as an argument – in her room. She’s kept her distance, socializing with other people, but still keeping an eye on Beca, just in case she does have some unexpected breakdown over Jesse. Jesse himself seems fine; he’d greeted Beca with an awkward and brief hug, but other than that has mostly spent the party hanging with Benji and the other Trebles.

Chloe finds that she feels much more generously toward him now that he’s no longer dating Beca.

“Hello.”

Chloe looks up to see a guy she doesn’t recognize standing in front of her. He’s cute enough; tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and brown eyes. He reminds her a little of Tom, but she still feels the familiar twinge of annoyance at being approached unsolicited.

“Hi,” she replies, already knowing how this is going to go.

“Do you have a map?” he asks, and she shakes her head. “‘Cuz I’m lost in your eyes,” he finishes with a proud grin.

It’s lame. It’s such a lame line, and she’s heard it what feels like hundreds of times before. Still, for half a second, she’s tempted. He’d be a distraction, if nothing else.

But then, her eyes again find Beca, dancing as if her life depends on it. Recently single Beca. Chloe almost wants to laugh at herself; there’s a cute guy attempting to flirt with her. She’s young and single. She should pretend to laugh at the line. She should flirt with him, maybe even kiss him or, hell, sleep with him. There’s no reason she can’t.

Well.

Except that Beca’s single. And Chloe doesn’t know how to stop hoping.

“I’ve heard that one too much,” Chloe replies, refocusing on the guy. “Next time, be more original.”

His face falls in disappointment, bur before he can even think about trying again, Chloe says, “Excuse me,” and stalks past him. She needs another drink.

“Trouble?” Stacie appears out of nowhere, hooking their arms together and steering Chloe away from Amy’s bar. They double back, walking slowly along the side of the pool.

“The usual,” Chloe sighs. “He was harmless, just boring.”

Stacie laughs, and Chloe can smell the alcohol on her breath. “Honestly, Chloe, if I had a body and a face like yours, I’d tear this party apart.”

Chloe looks sideways at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, yeah, whatever,” Stacie concedes, her voice loud enough to carry over the party, making a few people glance over at them. “I’m just saying! You should be getting laid!”

“ _Stacie_ ,” Chloe hisses, trying desperately to get her to be a little quieter. “You know why I’m not.”

Stacie nods sagely, stumbling just enough that Chloe has to tug on her arm to keep her upright. “Yeah, now that she’s single… you gonna ask her out?”

Chloe stops walking. Behind them, a drunken frat boy stops walking as well, trying to avoid running into them. He staggers, veers sideways, and topples into the pool with a splash that urges Chloe onward to avoid the water droplets, dragging Stacie with her.

“I… I’d like to,” Chloe replies slowly, not having to ask which “she” Stacie’s referring to. “But she’s straight.”

Stacie shrugs. “So is spaghetti ‘til it’s wet.”

“Oh my god! Stacie! That’s just –”

“Accurate?”

“I…” Chloe starts, then trails off at Stacie’s wicked grin. She settles for shaking her head, catching sight of Lilly staring at the flame on one of the tiki torches while Jessica and Ashley dance together nearby.

“She’s acting all weird anyway,” Chloe eventually mumbles. They’ve stopped walking and now stand off to the side of the party, near the bushes separating the Treble property from the Bellas’.

“What do you mean?” Stacie asks, frowning over at where Cynthia Rose appears to be teaching Emily a technique for consuming Jell-O shots that involves more tongue than strictly necessary.

“I mean, like. Weird.”

“That’s helpful,” Stacie quips, rolling her eyes in a strong impression of Beca.

Chloe sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “It’s... I don’t know. She’s acting – she’s not – do you think there’s a way she could know?” Chloe asks in a rush. “About… you know. How I feel,” she whispers, glancing around to make sure no one is eavesdropping nearby.

Stacie blinks. “I really don’t see how she could,” she says slowly, swirling the drink in her hand. “She’s really not the most observant midget in the world.”

“But she’s not letting me – she’s not the same!” Chloe catches herself, feeling it would be childish or even creepy to say that Beca isn’t letting her touch her.

Stacie’s already shaking her head. “Look, I don’t know what... _that’s_ about, but I can almost guarantee she doesn’t know. It’s not like anyone would tell her.”

Chloe shifts her weight, thinking. Across the party, Amy has wrapped up at the bar and is starting to wander around with a tray of tequila shots, prepping for her usual ambush of unsuspecting people for rounds of body shots.

“That’s true…” Chloe replies as Amy swoops down on her pair of victims. “It would just explain why she acts weird around me now.”

“Okay, fine,” Stacie says, sounding exasperated. “Say it’s that. Let’s pretend she knows about –” she gestures vaguely along Chloe’s entire body “– all that. Why would she break up with Jesse then?”

“I…” Chloe starts, then stops. “They... don’t have chemistry?”

Stacie snorts. “Well, duh. But, fine then, why would she stay here? She said they’re still on good terms, so why not just go with him to LA anyway?”

Chloe hesitates, drawing a blank. It’s true; Beca could still go.

Across the party, Amy approaches Emily and Flo with shots at the ready.

“Look,” Stacie continues, taking a generous swig of her drink. “Beca runs when she’s scared. It’s what she _does_.” she emphasizes when Chloe opens her mouth to interrupt. “And she’s staying put this summer, which means she’s not scared. Whatever her deal is, she doesn’t want to run from you.”

“That’s true,” Chloe murmurs.

“I know. And,” Stacie adds, “this means that even if she does know, which she doesn’t, she’s choosing not to run away.”

“That… actually makes sense,” Chloe says. “I knew there was a reason you graduated with honors.”

Stacie winks and opens her mouth to say something but is cut off by an enormous cheer. Chloe glances over at its source, expecting to see Amy doing something crazy. Instead, her eyes land on Beca, trapped in the middle of a grind-fest between three different guys. Instinctively, Chloe looks for Jesse, expecting him to put a stop to it, but he’s nowhere to be seen and she remembers that Beca’s single and probably living it up.

“See?” Chloe says bitterly, tearing her eyes away. Seeing those guys all over Beca makes her stomach ache. “Very, very straight.”

“Umm... look again,” Stacie suggests.

Something in her tone catches Chloe’s attention, and she forces herself to look back at the throng. Beca’s expression screams discomfort and she’s hunched in on herself, trying to make herself smaller.

“Maybe not as straight as we thought?” Stacie mutters, looking at Chloe expectantly. “Or at least, not into _them_ ,” she emphasizes, offering a free hand to Chloe.

Without thinking twice, Chloe hands Stacie her drink. “For Christ’s sake,” she mutters, and hurries toward Beca and the creeps rubbing themselves all over her.

She’s there in seconds; she doesn’t hesitate and grabs the back of the nearest guy’s shirt collar and pulls. Predictably, he’s drunk, and she’s easily able to haul him backward and give him a healthy shove in the other direction.

“Okay, we’re done here,” she says loudly to the general audience and catches hold of Beca’s outstretched hand. With a tug (much more gentle than she had been with the first guy), Chloe plucks Beca out from between the two remaining guys. Ignoring their looks of irritation, Chloe guides Beca away and back to a less-crowded corner of the party.

“Thanks,” Beca huffs once they’re away from the middle of the party. She looks down at herself in dismay and starts brushing off her clothes, as if those guys had gotten dirt on her. And maybe it’s the alcohol Beca’s already consumed, but she remains close to Chloe and doesn’t pull away or put space between them for the first time in days.

“Anytime,” Chloe says, resisting the urge to help Beca dust herself off. “Didn’t look fun.”

“It really wasn’t,” Beca agrees, now repairing her hair. “It’s just – they all heard I’m single now, so.”

“And who can blame them?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Chloe wants to take them back. She blames the alcohol, the slight adrenaline rush, and the fact that Beca is voluntarily standing less than three feet away from her for the first time in days.

Beca’s mouth drops open a little in surprise. Chloe’s about to apologize, to take it back and insist she didn’t mean it, but then Beca’s eyes drop to her lips. Something flutters in Chloe’s chest, and she waits for Beca to jerk back or turn away, but instead, Beca only leans in closer a millimeter.

“I – about earlier…” Beca starts, her eyes jumping between Chloe’s lips and eyes. She leans forward again, and Chloe mirrors her, her heart pounding, until they’re so close that their noses almost touch and it would only take the smallest movement from either of them to close the gaps between their lips and –

“BODY SHOTS!”

Amy’s yell is so close and unexpected that it makes Chloe jerk back in surprise; she stumbles, trips, and is about to land on her ass in the bushes, but then Beca’s hand wraps around her forearm to steady her.

“Body shots,” Amy repeats, ignoring Chloe’s near-death experience. “It’s tradition!”

“Oh no,” Beca groans, releasing Chloe’s arm and backing away. “Oh dear god no.”

“Oh, come on!” Amy cries, latching a hand on Beca’s shoulder, holding her in place. “You have to do it sometime.”

“No, I really –”

“You’re doing it,” Amy insists. “Everyone else has at least once at some point. You’ve never.”

“I – I’m – there’s no way –” Beca’s stammering now, her expression becoming more panicked by the second. “Chloe?”

Chloe shakes the fog from her head ( _god, she’d been so close to kissing Beca_ ) and shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “It’ll probably be less painful to just give in.”

“I –”

“It’s you two,” Amy says, pointing between them, “or you and some stranger of my choosing,” she threatens.

For a long moment, Beca hesitates. One of the guys who’d been grinding on her earlier, the one Chloe had initially shoved away, wanders past, his eyes locked onto her cleavage. Chloe glares at him, silently daring him to reach out so she can pummel him properly this time, but then Beca clears her throat.

“Uh, no, let’s just… Chloe?” she asks, something unidentifiable in her expression.

“What?” Chloe tears her eyes away from the creep. “Uh, are you sure?”

“She’s sure,” Amy butts in, forcing a lime slice and a salt shaker into Beca’s hands. “Let’s go, Shawshank.”

Beca eyes the salt shaker apprehensively. “How do I…”

The reality of what’s about to happen hits Chloe hard; she feels as if she’s been launched from her body. She’s just drunk enough yet and Beca’s perfume is so achingly familiar and they’d been so close to kissing. Something stirs low in her gut and she _knows_ this is a bad idea, but she still doesn’t care. Chloe sees, as if floating above the scene, her own hands reaching forward to pluck the salt and lime from Beca’s grasp.

“Like this,” she says, the cool glass of the salt shaker and moisture of the lime against her fingertips working to pull her back into her own body. “Tilt,” she commands, her fingers tingling with excitement she’s trying hard not to show.

Beca only looks at her questioningly, so she reaches forward to cup Beca’s chin, angling her face up and to the side to expose the soft skin of her neck. She watches Beca’s throat bob as she drops her hand from Beca’s chin.

Beca’s arms fall to her side, hands balled into fists. Chloe glances at her face, just to double-check that she is really okay with this; her eyes are screwed tightly shut and her expression is tense, but she’s not stepping away. Chloe stares for a long moment, wanting to memorize the image of Beca standing in wait for her, but then Amy clears her throat and gives her a pointed look. Getting the message, Chloe sucks in a slow breath to steel herself, then steps forward and raises the lime.

She’s done this before, but never with Beca, and she’ll almost certainly never get to do this with Beca again. So, she allows herself to indulge, dragging the surface of the lime from the swell of Beca’s right breast, up her chest, and over her neck, stopping at her pulse point just below her jaw. Beca’s skin raises into goosebumps along the trail the lime had painted, but she doesn’t step away or even flinch. Before her good sense can kick in and change her mind, Chloe eases the lime between Beca’s lips.

“Hold,” she whispers, and Beca’s teeth bite lightly into where the fruit meets the rind, holding the lime in place.

Lifting the salt shaker, Chloe sprinkles salt over the line of juice she’d drawn with the lime, careful not to pour out too much so that she’ll still be able to taste Beca’s skin under the salt and juice. Handing Amy the salt shaker, Chloe takes half a heartbeat to steady herself. Then, while she still has the courage, she steps forward, rests her hands on Beca’s hips, and leans her head down.

The sounds of the party fade to a low hum, everything and everyone else falling away the instant Chloe’s tongue touches Beca’s skin just above her breast. She flattens it and drags it slowly upward, following the trail of salt. As she goes, she hears Beca’s breath catch and Beca’s hands land flat on her back, holding her in place. It surprises Chloe, her mind instantly launched to an entirely different scenario involving ragged breathing and Beca’s hands on her back, but she keeps going, her tongue collecting every last grain of salt. Under the salt and lime, Beca’s skin tastes like her perfume smells, sweet and delicate, and so completely _Beca_. Chloe traces up her neck, ending at Beca’s pulse point, where she can’t resist letting her lips press gently; it drags a soft, strangled sound of surprise from Beca’s throat that makes need pool in Chloe’s stomach.

She pulls away reluctantly, reaches for the shot of tequila that appears almost magically in her hand, and throws it back. She winces a little at the taste, but then she’s leaning forward again to find the lime to ease the flavor. She can see every detail of Beca’s face, as close as they are, can hear every breath she takes. Chloe captures the fruit gently with her teeth, but her courage falters at being that close to Beca, so she only barely lets their lips brush. Despite her resistance, though, the briefest sensation of Beca’s lips under hers sends fire racing down her spine and makes her toes curl in her shoes.

She wants to press closer, to kiss Beca properly without the lime in the way and give her everything she deserves. She knows instantly she’ll never recover from this, even that tiny contact between their lips, and she wants nothing more than to prolong it.

She steps back, Beca’s hands falling away from her as she creates space between them. Chloe bites into the lime, the juice bursting from the fruit and sending flavor exploding over her tongue. She sucks until it’s dry and the tang of tequila is gone, then places what’s left of the slice on the tray Amy still holds.

The whole thing takes barely ten seconds, but it leaves her hands shaking and heart pounding.

*******************

_Beca’s skin is hot under Chloe’s fingers and lips. They’re twisted together in a tangle of limbs, bare bodies tacky with perspiration. Chloe is on fire, her skin burning everywhere Beca touches her. Their kisses are frantic and needy, and when Beca sucks on her tongue, Chloe thinks she’s losing her mind._

_Chloe kisses Beca fiercely, pressing her down into the mattress as she leans over her. Beca’s hands are on her shoulders, her back, her ass, wherever they can reach, tugging her down and even closer as if trying to pull Chloe into her very skin. Chloe grinds forward and down from where she’s situated between Beca’s open legs, making Beca’s hips cant upward and dragging a groan from Beca’s throat._

_“Chlo…” Beca whimpers, hooking a leg around Chloe’s hips to pull her in._

_“Shh, it’s okay.”_

_Chloe reaches her hand between them, trailing her fingertips down Beca’s jumping stomach, over her slim hip bones, and between her legs to brush through wet heat. They both groan at the touch, Chloe unable to resist stroking, exploring, her fingers gliding over Beca’s soft skin that somehow feels even better than she’d imagined. She finds Beca’s swollen bud easily and swirls two fingers around it, adding pressure with each pass, taking pride in the way Beca’s mouth drops open and her eyes slam shut. The hands on Chloe’s back clutch at her in desperation._

_“God, that’s so good,” Beca moans, her back arching, her breasts rising to brush against Chloe’s._

_Chloe groans in response, her fingers dropping to tease Beca’s entrance. It makes Beca throw her head back into the pillow, neck straining, and Chloe can’t resist dropping to attach her lips to the delicate skin there._

_“Chloe, please, I – please, I need you,” is panted into the air, Beca’s hips again lifting into hers._

_That – hearing Beca say she needs her – destroys Chloe’s self-control and she slides into Beca easily. Beca chokes on air and nails scrape down Chloe’s spine as Chloe curls her fingers, pulling out and pushing in, setting the slow, thorough pace Beca deserves._

_All too soon, Chloe feels Beca clamping around her fingers; Beca’s pants and moans string together, rising and building until she cuts herself off with a gasp. For a second, she’s rigid and silent, and then she falls, pulsing around Chloe’s fingers, moaning and crying out, Chloe’s name falling from her lips in a beautiful symphony._

_Chloe’s eyes fly open and she wakes with a start, the sound of Beca’s climax still ringing in her ears. She twists to look at the space beside her in her bed, chest aching when she sees how alone she is. She allows her mind to chase the dream for a second, desperate to remember what it feels like to touch Beca like that, to hear Beca moaning her name, what it’s like for Beca to be hers and hers alone._

_She shifts in bed uncomfortably, her thighs flexing. The dream had left her wet and aching, and it’s second nature to let her hand slide down her stomach and further south. It’s so easy to imagine it’s Beca, returning the touch..._

_That’s when her brain catches up with the rest of her body and she yanks her hand back up. She can’t do this. She can’t touch herself while thinking about Beca. It’s wrong._

_As soon as she realizes it, shame washes over her in a wave, warming her face and making her want to hide under the covers. It had been the most vivid sex dream she’s ever had, and it had been with Beca. Best friend Beca, straight Beca, currently-in-a-relationship Beca._

_Jesus._

_The backs of Chloe’s eyes prickle and sting as it sinks in that her dream will never be the reality. She’s never going to feel Beca’s hands on her like that, never going to lay Beca down on a bed and make love to her in a way she deserves. It’s utterly unfair, and completely cruel, that she can so clearly imagine what it would feel like to touch Beca when it’s the one thing she can never do._

_Chloe rolls to her stomach and groans into her pillow. She knows Beca would never cheat on Jesse, even though they’ve only been together barely a year, so Chloe’s pretty sure the mere thought of being with Beca like that makes her a homewrecker. And, Jesus, If Beca knew about this, it would ruin everything. Their friendship would be over._

_The tears start to fall then, leaking into her pillow, and Chloe forces herself to take several deep breaths to keep from breaking into all-out sobs. She knows rationally that it’s not her fault; it’s impossible to control dreams. Still, she still feels like some kind of pervert, or – Christ – a predator, even, for making Beca the unwilling star of her pornographic dreams._

_She tries to burrow further into her bed, pressing her face down into the pillow and hoping she’ll somehow disappear completely, but that only serves to push her hips down into the mattress and, oh god, that had been such a good dream. The sharp reminder of it makes her twist sharply to lie on her back again, trying to think of something – anything – else to get her body to calm down, to not be so goddamn turned on._

_What the hell is wrong with her?_

_It’s going to be a long night._

*******************

“So. That’s a body shot,” Chloe says, hoping her voice won’t betray her.

Beca nods, looking as shaken as Chloe feels. “That – that wasn’t so bad,” she says, lifting a hand to push a strand of hair behind her ear. “So…”

“So your turn!” Amy cries gleefully, shoving the salt shaker into Beca’s chest.

“Uh, I just do the same thing?”

“Well… you could always have her lay down and take it off her bellybutton,” Amy suggests, eyebrows waggling.

“Ew,” Beca wrinkles her nose. “No offense,” she adds, glancing at Chloe.

“You’re good,” Chloe assures her. “I don’t want a sticky stomach. The same way is fine.”

Beca nods, taking a deep breath of her own. She reaches over to pluck a slice of lime from the tray and takes a step forward, very much in Chloe’s personal space. “Tilt,” she says softly, reaching out to guide Chloe’s chin up and angled with a single finger. She’s light and careful, but Chloe can still feel everywhere Beca’s touch rests on her face.

Brow furrowed in concentration, Beca extends the lime forward. Chloe feels its coolness against her skin, low on her chest and gliding up her neck in a smooth line to end just below her jaw. It makes her shiver, but she’s not sure if it’s because of the coolness of the fruit itself or because of the person holding it.

“And then…” Beca mumbles to herself, raising the lime hesitantly to Chloe’s mouth. “Um, could you…?” she asks, and Chloe takes the lime rind between her teeth, already able to taste the tang of it. The feeling of Beca being that close, close enough that Chloe could count her eyelashes, is almost too much. She closes her eyes, in case Beca sees what she’s really feeling.

“Right,” Beca says, and a moment later, Chloe feels the tickle of salt grains tumbling over her chest and neck, sticking to the path of juice.

Then comes the clink of the salt shaker being replaced on the tray, and Chloe braces herself, knowing she’ll never be truly ready. Light hands land on her hips and air puffs over her chest, followed by something warm and soft that is unmistakably Beca’s tongue. It travels slowly up her chest, Chloe’s skin burning at the contact. Beca’s mouth reaches her neck and it takes every ounce of self-control Chloe has to remain silent and still, but then Beca reaches the apex of the salt just under Chloe’s jaw. Her lips press against Chloe’s neck and she sucks, running her tongue over skin drawn into her mouth to lick up the residual grains of salt.

Chloe’s hands twitch at her sides and she has to choke down the moan threatening to break free. For a crazy second, she’s sure Beca’s about to mark her, but then the sucking pressure stops and Beca steps away. There’s a beat, and Chloe pictures Beca taking the shot, can imagine her little frown at the taste –

And then she senses Beca move in close and just like that, Beca’s nose is nudging the side of hers and there’s a pressure on the lime as Beca closes her lips around it. Unlike Chloe, though, Beca lets their lips touch; the unexpected sensation makes Chloe’s knees weaken and she almost leans forward to begin a more purposeful kiss. Before she can give into the urge, Beca’s lips pull back and the lime is taken from her mouth, cool air rushing to replace Beca’s body in front of her.

Chloe forces her eyes open in time to see Beca take the used lime slice from her own mouth and place it on the tray. When she turns back to look at Chloe, the party around them fades away until they’re the only two people in the world.

And there’s a moment, a sliver of time where Beca leans in and her eyes drop to Chloe’s mouth, and Chloe’s sure she’s going to kiss her; but even as Chloe starts to lean into it, something small changes in Beca’s expression, a slight shift that sends warning bells glaring through Chloe’s brain. She panics and steps back before Beca can, breaking eye contact.

The moment breaks, and sound rushes back into Chloe’s ears as if someone had turned the world off mute. The party surges around them and Amy stares at Beca, eyes wide with excitement. More than a few people are watching them, including Stacie and Emily, and Chloe thinks she even sees Jesse’s face quickly turning away. All the eyes on her make Chloe feel trapped and claustrophobic, scrutinized by the people who almost witnessed the ruin of her friendship with Beca.

Because she’s positive that if they had actually kissed, it would have destroyed everything.

Beca’s still staring at her, eyes dark.

“See?” Chloe manages, her own voice muffled in her ears. trying to control her voice. “Nothing to it.”

“Yeah,” Beca blinks. Uh –”

“I’ve got to go,” Chloe blurts, unable to bear another second this close to Beca.

Beca blinks at her, eyebrows lifting, but before she can say anything, Chloe turns on the spot. She flies past Amy and weaves through the horde of drunken party-goers, her only goal to get away from Beca. She has to run, because if she doesn’t, she’s going to do something incredibly stupid, like pressing Beca into the nearest flat surface to kiss her senseless.

So, she runs, crashes through the bushes separating the Treble and Bella properties, flying over the lawn and into the Bella house, slamming the door behind her. She jogs up the stairs to the second floor, taking them two at a time, and reaches the landing in seconds. She can’t escape her thoughts, though; even as she launches herself into her bedroom and locks the door, all she can think about is how sweet Beca’s skin tasted and how hot Beca’s tongue felt on her neck and how perfectly Beca’s lips fit against hers.

Chloe paces around her room, hands clasped behind her neck and heart pounding as if it’s trying to escape from her chest. Beca’s _straight_ , Beca’s her _best friend_. Chloe growls, angry at herself. What is wrong with her that she keeps letting things like this happen? God, Beca’s long-term relationship ended literally _hours_ ago, and instead of being a supportive best friend, Chloe’s thinking about jamming her tongue down Beca’s throat.

There’s something really, really wrong with her.

She needs help.

Chloe stops pacing to throw herself down on her bed, landing on her back. She extracts her phone from the front pocket of her jeans and immediately calls Aubrey.

The line rings twice, then thrice, and Chloe only dimly registers she’s chanting, “Pick up, pick up, pick up –”

“Chloe?” Aubrey’s voice sounds groggy and confused, but the familiar sound of it sends relief crashing over Chloe in a wave. “Ugh, do you know what _time_ it is?”

Chloe frowns and cranes her neck to glance at the clock.

“Bree, it’s barely after midnight.”

“Exactly,” Aubrey yawns.

Despite the anxiety rolling her stomach, Chloe’s lips twitch. “Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously?”

 “Yes, I have to be up early. But you sound like hell, so it’s okay. What’s up?”

The situation rushes back, the harsh reality of what happened and what almost happened making Chloe want to melt into nonexistence.

“God, I – shit, Aubrey I really messed up,” Chloe chokes out, her throat tight. Her hands have started shaking; she grips her phone more tightly to get it to stop.

“What happened?” Aubrey asks, her voice sharpening and sounding more alert. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m –” Chloe stops herself before she can lie and say “fine,” and changes tactic. “It’s Beca.”

“What happened to Beca?”

“She’s okay, she – she just broke up with Jesse and then we almost kissed and then we did body shots and almost kissed again and I can’t do this anymore because she’s my friend and she’s straight and –”

“Chloe, breathe!” Aubrey interrupts. Chloe takes a massive gulp of air, once again feeling light-headed and panicky. “Take another,” Aubrey commands, and Chloe breathes again, and again, until her heart rate starts to settle.

“Okay,” Aubrey says. “So, uh, holy shit. She broke up with Jesse, and then... you guys did shots and almost kissed?”

Chloe shrugs, even though Aubrey can’t see her. “Yeah, basically.”

“And... this is a bad thing?”

“What?” Chloe snaps, surprised by how confused Aubrey sounds. “Yes! Of course it’s bad! Don’t you understand what almost happened?”

“But I thought –”

“It’s not right!” interrupts Chloe, a heavy guilt settling in her chest even as her breathing picks up again. “I shouldn’t have done body shots with her! It’s weird, and inappropriate, and –”

“No, sweetie, it’s not –”

Chloe laughs wildly, edging into hysterics. “Yes, it is! I got carried away because she’s single now and, God, I wanted to kiss her so badly, Bree. It was just – it’s horrible of me.”

“Chloe, I don’t understand,” Aubrey replies slowly. “You’ve never felt weird liking other girls. Unless… you just didn’t say?”

“That’s – it’s different!” Chloe stammers, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “It’s different because it’s Beca and she’s my friend and she’s straight! It never feels good to crush on a straight girl,” she sighs. “It’s – it’s creepy, and bad and terrible, and I – she didn’t ask for me to get all weird around her! She never did anything to – to lead me on, and I ruined everything by falling for her!”

Chloe throws her free arm over her eyes, wanting to shut out the world. “God,” she continues, “what’s so wrong with me that I can’t control my feelings around her? I – it makes me some kind of – of predator or something!” she explodes, her voice cracking.

On the other end of the line, Aubrey is silent. Chloe waits, swallowing hard against the massive lump in her throat. She takes a shuddering breath but isn’t able to calm her thundering heart.

“Chloe Anne Beale,” Aubrey finally says, her voice tight and measured. “You listen to me right now. I’ve been trying to tell you this for years, but you didn’t listen and – well, you’re going to listen now. Understand?”

“Aubrey, don’t –”

“No,” Aubrey cuts her off sharply. “I’m talking. You’re listening.”

Chloe hiccups and wipes at her eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Look....” Aubrey sighs, her tone gentler and soft. “I can’t… even imagine what all you’re feeling, but… _Chloe_. Come on. I’ve known you for seven years.”

Chloe’s lips pull into a watery smile, remembering how they first met.

“And I know you are not a predator, Chloe. You aren’t. You never have been. You aren’t terrible, you aren’t creepy, and there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? There is nothing wrong about having feelings for someone.”

Chloe stares blankly at the ceiling, ensnared by Aubrey’s words, half-afraid to believe her.

“Chlo,” Aubrey implores, “you are a fantastic friend, an excellent captain, and a beautiful person, inside and out. You are… you’re the kindest, sweetest, and most caring person I have ever met. Listen to me, Chloe. Just because you’ve had these feelings for Beca all this time… it doesn’t make you weird, or creepy, or a bad person, and it most certainly doesn’t make you a predator. You are not – and never have been – a predator. You’re _human_.”

Silence fills the line. Chloe can’t speak; there’s something lodged in her throat.

“Okay?” Aubrey asks.

Chloe can only nod, forgetting that Aubrey can’t see her.

“Chloe?”

Clearing her throat, Chloe croaks out, “Yeah, I… yeah. Thank you,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome,” Aubrey replies briskly. “So if that’s all… wanna watch a movie? Switch to Skype?”

Chloe smiles, knowing that Aubrey hates getting sappy almost as much as Beca does. “Sure,” she replies, picking herself up from her bed to hunt down her laptop and charger. It’s not the first time they’ve watched a movie together like this. “You sure I won’t keep you up too late?”

“It’s fine,” Aubrey dismisses. “I’ll ask one of the other camp counselors to take point tomorrow. What do you want to watch?”

“Um…” Chloe pulls up Netflix and does a quick search for something light, funny, and relatively short (no matter what Aubrey says, Chloe knows her sleep is important to her).

They eventually decide on _Mean Girls_ , and Chloe settles into her bed after changing into her pajamas. She pulls up Skype, connects with Aubrey, and they watch the movie together, laughing at the same old lines and quoting Regina George to each other. It’s exactly what Chloe needs.

At around 2:30 in the morning, after the movie has ended and Aubrey has said goodnight, Chloe lies in bed and listens to the sounds of the others coming home. She hears Amy’s loud voice, several thuds as – judging by the yelps of pain – Stacie, Flo, and Emily trip up the stairs, and the sounds of nine pairs of feet wandering the house in search of food, water, and bed. For one terrifying second, she doesn’t think Beca’s with them – what if she’d stayed with Jesse? – but then another thud and a muffled and familiar “Fuck,” reassures her. At one point, right as she’s drifting off to sleep, she almost thinks footsteps stop outside her door. No one knocks, though, so she thinks she must have imagined it.

As she always does, she falls asleep thinking of Beca.


	9. Chapter 9 - Beca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the reviews and comments! I really appreciate them!

Beca paces the bedroom she shares with Amy, alternating between shaking out her hands at her sides and clasping them together in front of her. Her eyes fix on the carpet below her feet as she circles between their twin beds in a never-ending orbit of anxiety.

Amy hadn’t been in the room when Beca woke up, slightly hungover, a headache forming at her temples, and Beca assumes she’s downstairs eating breakfast with the others. It’s almost noon, so she wouldn’t be surprised if she were the last one up.

If it’s like the morning after any other party, the Bellas are most likely gathered around the kitchen table in search of coffee or some kind of food to soak up the residual alcohol in their systems. They’re probably alternating between laughing and wincing at the pain in their heads, reliving the blurry memories of the night before.

Beca wishes she could erase one memory in particular.

She can still feel Chloe’s tongue on her neck, sending hot spikes of electricity rocketing through her entire body. It had been intoxicating; she’d gotten drunk on it, so much so that she’d lost control. She’d purposely spent more time at Chloe’s neck than necessary, enjoying the way it had made Chloe tense under her lips. She’d purposely taken the lime with more embellishment than needed, and had purposely allowed their lips to meet. It had been a moment of weakness, a moment where Beca had cast aside the wall separating her feelings from her actions.

And as a result, Chloe had run from her.

It had almost made Beca laugh, actually, because it was so _atypical_. Chloe never ran from anything; running was Beca’s job. But then the awful realization of what Chloe was probably running from hit hard, and shame had rushed in to fill the space she’d left.

“Maybe she’s got to use the bathroom or something,” Amy had shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned. “More shots?”

Beca had done it. She’d taken more shots – though not off anyone’s body this time – with the intention of forgetting the sight of Chloe walking away from her. It had worked, too. She’d danced with Amy, with Stacie, with Lilly for several terrifying moments, and maybe once with Jesse, but she can’t really remember beyond that.

What she does remember – though she wishes she didn’t – is the look on Chloe’s face during their argument yesterday. She hates to call it an argument, but that’s what it was. Chloe’s voice reverberates around the walls of her mind, the _Did I do something wrong?_ echoing in her skull. She tries to cover her ears but still hears it; tries to cover her eyes but still sees Chloe’s fragile expression.

She can hear the sounds of the Bellas downstairs now, even from her attic room. They’re all definitely in the kitchen, and they’re definitely eating, judging by the faint clatter of utensils against plates.

Beca makes another complete circle between the beds.

She’s separate from the Bellas, divided from them by the invisible wall of her secret. Well, divided from everyone except Cynthia Rose. By not telling them, she’s not revealing something crucial about herself. By not telling them, she’s back to keeping them at arm’s distance, always policing herself to make sure she doesn’t slip up and ruin everything. She’s her own jailer, keeping herself hidden away from the people that matter most in her life because it’s too risky to tell them.

There’s so much pressure building in her chest that she feels she’s going to burst open at any second. She just knows it. She has to be on her top game when she goes down there, or the smallest question – something as innocuous as “how’re you feeling?” – is going to break the dam and make her spill everything in a torrential outpouring of truth.

It would be easier to hide it. It would be safer. It would be simple to go on as is. She’ll have to move out at the end of the summer anyway, and then she can start over. The others would never have to know. It would be so, so _easy_ to never tell them.

But… Beca pauses in her pacing, the pressure in her chest mounting by the second, soaking into her lungs and weighing her down. Would it really be easier? Pretending to be someone she isn’t?

The idea of having to restrain herself for much longer, of holding this secret within, exhausts her from the inside out. If the internship had been hard to hide for a year, hiding this aspect of herself and her identity seems impossible for even another week.

Cynthia Rose’s voice drifts through her memory, then: _They’ll support you. Those aca-bitches’ll joke about it, but they’ll support you._

Hiding the internship from them all had been a mistake. She’d spent almost all year in anguish over it, only for them to be completely okay with it. Hell, more than okay – they’d wanted to hear more about it.

And why wouldn’t they? Beca spun to face the door, heart racing. They’re her family. Why wouldn’t they love and support her, no matter what? After the internship fiasco, didn’t she learn that she can tell them anything?

Maybe even this. She should be able to tell them this.

Before she can change her mind, Beca forces herself to her bedroom door. She sees her hand turn the knob and watches herself – as if from floating above everything – pick her way down two flights of stairs. She’s both absent from and trapped within her own body; her head feels filled with helium, and yet, she’s hyper-aware of the leaden pressure steadily building in her chest, the anxiety twisting her innards, the sweat forming on her palms, and the quaking in her legs.

In an instant, she’s in the kitchen. As she’d thought, everyone is already gathered there; Chloe, Stacie, and Jessica at the stove preparing a breakfast of pancakes and eggs, Ashley and Emily managing the coffee, Flo working on toast, and Amy, Cynthia Rose, and Lilly sprawled at the table. At the sight of them all, the pressure in her chest grows to a roar and the dividing wall constructed of the secret separating her and them feels more solid than ever. As soon as Beca steps fully into the kitchen, nine pairs of eyes swivel to land on her.

Beca tries not to think too much into the fact that Chloe’s looking at her like she always does, as though last night hadn’t changed a single thing.

(She fails.)

“Morning, party animal!” Amy greets, raising her hand for a high-five that Beca has to lean over to reach. “Survived the shots?”

“Yeah,” Emily adds, looking concerned. “You really danced a lot last night. Did you pull anything?”

“I didn’t know you could bend like that,” Stacie purrs appreciatively, her eyes roaming down Beca’s body. “Something to keep in mind.”

Chloe has turned back to making the eggs, her face hidden from view. Yet, she’s the one Beca speaks to when she clears her throat.

“Can I… can I talk to you guys?”

Her voice is scratchy, but she hopes they’ll chalk it up to the night of heavy drinking and sleep, rather than nerves and the suffocating grip on her lungs. As soon as she asks, the mood in the room shifts; Stacie’s and Emily’s smiles drop, and Chloe turns back to look at her, eyes questioning.

“Like… in the living room?” Beca continues, gesturing weakly to the couch. For some reason, she feels like this should be a more formal announcement than something that would occur over the gentle sizzle of cooking pancakes.

“We’re already here,” Amy whines, setting further into her chair. “Are you gonna make us move?”

“Uh –”

“Spit it out,” Flo urges, putting more bread into the toaster and pulling the lever down to start it.

Beca stares around the room, feeling trapped. Chloe doesn’t say anything, but watches her carefully, looking concerned. Cynthia Rose takes a sip of whatever is in her mug and stares at her over its rim but doesn’t give any sort of indication of what she should do.

“I… okay,” Beca starts, now hearing the roaring pressure in her ears. “It’s just… you guys know how, well, when there’s something that you kind of know, but you don’t want to know, so you just deny it until you can’t anymore? You know?”

She receives nine blank stares in return.

The dam in Beca’s chest cracks.

Chloe sets down the spatula she was using to make the eggs. “Beca, what are you –”

The dam shatters.

“I like girls,” pours from Beca’s mouth, flooding the room. “I’m… into girls. Too, I mean. At least, I think it’s ‘too?’ I’m not really positive on… the logistics…” her voice trails off into the silence of the room. They’re all just looking at her. It’s unnerving. Beca waits with bated breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Chloe gapes at her, eyes slightly unfocused, lips parted in surprise. Unable to bear it, Beca forces herself to look elsewhere. Cynthia Rose is smiling at her. Emily’s jaw has fallen open. Amy takes a sip of her drink, eyes wide. Panicking slightly, Beca wonders if Amy will ask her to change rooms or something, to avoid being around her.

The toast pops up in the toaster, startling them all and shattering the spell.

Flo moves first, turning back to pull the toast out. “Okay,” she says, and then it’s like the air is restored to the room.

Amy shrugs, throwing the rest of her coffee back. “Okay.”

Ashley and Jessica nod, then turn back to their respective tasks.

“Aliens have no sexuality,” whispers Lilly.

“Okay,” says Stacie, flipping a pancake.

“O… kay?” asks Beca.

“Yeah Shawshank,” Amy replies easily. “With the way you talked to that German woman, that’s not the surprising part.”

Chloe frowns at that, but Beca has to do a double-take.

“Wait, then… what’s the surprising part?”

Amy grins. “That you finally admitted it.”

Beca blinks, unsure whether to be offended or to laugh. Stacie smirks at her, while almost everyone else nods in a way that can only be described as pitying.

Chloe hasn’t said anything.

“Wait,” Beca says slowly. “So... like, it’s cool?”

Emily grins at her brightly. “We love you, no matter what!” 

And for a second, Beca’s back with her mom, wrapped in a hug after an elementary school breakup or being comforted after watching her dad walk away. She feels safe, and secure, and so loved that it makes her want to cry.

“I… yeah,” she chokes out, trying not to let anyone see the sting in her eyes. “That’s really… yeah.”

She inhales deeply as everyone returns to their breakfast chores, feeling like she hasn’t breathed properly in weeks. The pressure in her chest is gone, and the final walls separating her from her family dissolve away to nothingness. Just like that, with only a few words falling from her lips, everything is okay again.

Beca looks around at all of them, the people she would do anything for and can tell anything to, and suddenly she’s regained that sense of family she hasn’t had since she was 16.

She tries not to think about how Chloe hasn’t said a single word.

*******************

_Beca doesn’t plan on staying the night after the Treble party. It just sort of… happens._

_The party crowd starts to thin out around 2:00 am, either from people leaving or from passing out on the floor thanks to Amy’s latest, and terrifying, concoction of random alcohols. Ordinarily at this point, Jesse would ask Beca to stay the night, and she’d say no. Then, she’d attempt to round up her Bellas so they could make their way back to their own house, either for more alcohol or for water, snacks, and bed._

_Tonight, though, is a little different. Tonight, when Jesse asks her if she wants to stay the night, his expression hopeful, she hesitates. They’ve been dating for almost sixteen months. He’s been asking her to sleep with him for the last twelve of those. He’s never pushed her when she says no, and he’s never sulked about it. But he keeps asking, and it’s starting to make Beca feel like a bad girlfriend. It’s starting to make her feel like there’s something wrong with her that she doesn’t want this as much as he does._

_Beca’s eyes land on Ashley and Chloe as they attempt to corral Lilly, who is currently playing with a lighter. They won’t notice if she doesn’t come back with them and will probably assume she already went back to the house. A few feet beyond them, Stacie locks lips with some random frat boy, wrapping one leg around him and likely already promising him the night of his life. She makes it look so easy. She makes sex seem like the most casual thing in the world._

_Tonight, Beca hesitates when Jesse asks, thinking of how long he’s been asking and how easy it would be and how no one else seems to make as big of a deal of sex as she does. For a split second, she wonders if Chloe has hooked up with anyone lately._

_She feels herself nod yes._

_Jesse’s face turns into a mask of surprise that’s borderline insulting. A quick, “Are you sure?” flies past his lips and she says that yes, she is sure, and then he’s grabbing her hand and leading the way to his bedroom at top speed. He’s so eager that she trips a little going up the stairs, and she has to take a second to assure him that no, she isn’t drunk (she’s only tipsy) before he continues to guide her up the stairs and away from the rest of the party._

_For reasons she can’t explain, she hopes Chloe hadn’t seen._

_As soon as his bedroom door locks behind them, Beca’s world becomes a blur. He’s kissing her, then undressing himself, then her, and sucking at her neck as he guides her to the bed. She tells him it’s her first time, and he pauses before nodding and resuming, more slowly. She sees him reach for his bedside drawer, watches as he pulls out a small, crinkly package. The sight of the condom makes her stomach flip violently._

_It’s not what she’d thought it would be. He tells her she’s beautiful, kisses her breasts, and once even kisses her between her legs, but it feels like a pretense, a perfunctory opening act before the main event. She doesn’t like being naked in front of him. It’s stifling, lying under him. It’s uncomfortable, and borderline painful, having him inside of her. It doesn’t feel bad, exactly, but it doesn’t really feel good either. She finds herself more focused on helping him, dragging her hands down his back and allowing him to push into a regular rhythm until his body shudders above her and he gasps into her ear._

_After, she lies staring at his ceiling, her mind flying and her chest constricting. He’s already snoring, sprawled on his back beside her without touching her. She doesn’t want him to touch her._

_There must be something wrong with her. That’s the only explanation._

_She’d lied to him, when he’d asked if she’d climaxed. She hadn’t even been close, though he’d done everything right. She knows the first time isn’t supposed to be the greatest for a girl, that it’s normal, even expected, for the guy to finish but not the girl. Despite that knowledge, she still feels that she must have messed something up. She’d barely felt a thing the entire time; surely, that can’t be normal. People talk about sex like it’s the best thing in the world, and she isn’t particularly interested in having it with Jesse again for a while._

_There must be something wrong with her. She must be so broken inside, from her past, from not letting anyone love her for the longest time, that she is incapable of feeling anything._

_She knows it’s not Jesse’s fault. He’d gone slow enough, he’d communicated, he’d tried his best to make sure she was comfortable. It’s not his fault. It can only be hers._

_Beca presses the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to calm herself before he hears her crying._

_For reasons she can’t explain, she hopes Chloe won’t see her come home in the morning._

*******************

Beca reclines on her bed, trying to quiet the unease chipping away at her insides. She’s pretty sure she’s suffered worse nerves over the past two days than during all four years at Barden, which include countless Bella performances. It’s ridiculous; is she going to feel like this every time she has to come out to someone?

The phone in her hand seems like it’s getting heavier by the second, and she wonders if Amy had started putting nickels into the case or something like Jim does to Dwight in _The Office_. But, no. She knows it’s the weight of what she has to tell her dad and Sheila.

She doesn’t particularly want to tell them. She’s still not that close with her dad, and Sheila… well.

It just feels like something that she’s supposed to do. She’s told her ex-boyfriend and her closest friends (which are her real family), but it seems like she should tell her father, and, therefore, his wife. Doesn’t she kind of have to tell them, now that she’d told just about everyone else?

She presses “call” on her dad’s contact icon before the nausea can get any worse.

He picks up after two rings. “Hello? Beca?”

“Yeah, hi – Dad.”

Silence fills the line. She’s only recently started calling him that again, and she thinks it still surprises them both when she does it.

“So, uh, what’s going on?” he asks, skipping the small talk neither of them is any good at.

Beca closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Um, I –”

Shelia’s voice appears in the background, muffled but still clear enough for Beca to make out what she’s saying in that awful, nasally voice of hers. “Warren? Who is it?”

“It’s Beca,” her dad replies, but Beca’s only half-listening.

_Which of them is the girl in the relationship? I thought you liked boys? Did you see the new ad with the two brides? Disgusting, I can’t believe they show that on TV where a kid could see. I don’t know why the whole thing about gay marriage is such a big deal. It’s been illegal for this long, so why bother changing anything now?_

“Sorry, kiddo, what?” Warren asks, speaking over Sheila’s past comments.

Beca reopens her eyes. She hates it when he calls her that. Kiddo. He called her that before he left.

“Um, I just – I thought I’d let you know I’m not moving to LA.”

There’s a beat of confused silence – she can picture the bemused look on his face. It’s the same one he used to give her in high school every time she tried to explain how much music meant to her.

“Did something happen?” he asks.

“Yeah, uh, Jesse and I broke up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Did you do – did he do something?”

Beca grimaces. She almost wants to congratulate him on that save.

“It wasn’t like that,” she says instead. “He – we just aren’t suited.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

When he speaks again, his voice is cautious. “So, is Chl –”

Someone knocks on the closed door of her bedroom.

“You know, I have to go,” Beca says into the phone, already rising from her bed.

“Um –”

She ends the call, gets up from the bed, and places her phone face-down on her desk. She only takes a second, another deep breath, before moving to the door and opening it to see Chloe’s tentative smile.

“Hey,” Chloe greets.

“Hey.”

Beca wonders how much of that phone conversation Chloe heard before knocking.

Chloe had been the only one not to say anything when she’d come out.

“Are you –”

“Is that –”

They speak simultaneously, both cutting themselves off when the other talks. Chloe giggles at it, and the awkward tension eases.

“Want to come in?” Beca asks, moving aside.

Chloe nods and steps forward into the room, moving to sit on Beca’s bed without being prompted. Beca closes the door behind her, trying not to think about the fight that had happened the last time they’d been shut in a room together. She turns back to Chloe and, after a moment of indecision, sits at her desk chair rather than joining Chloe on the bed.

Chloe smiles shyly. “You go first,” she says.

“Um, right,” Beca says quietly, looking down at the floor. There’s the ghost of pressure back in her chest, fleeting, vanishing before she can really think about it. “Just, is it, you know... okay that I’m, like... into girls?”

Chloe startled laugh makes Beca look up from the floor. A second later, Chloe’s lifting her hands in apology. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” she apologizes. “It’s just – I mean, it’d be a little hypocritical if I wasn’t okay with it, Bec.”

_My biggest regret is that I didn’t do enough experimenting in college._

“Oh, right,” Beca huffs, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly as a sort of embarrassed relief creeps up her neck. “I just – I wasn’t sure.”

“Of course it’s okay, Bec,” Chloe insists, her expression earnest now, as if to make up for laughing. “You’re you, and nothing will ever change what you mean to – nothing will change that,” she finishes in a rush.

“Thanks,” replies Beca, not sure what else to do. She studies the floor for a moment, before remembering that Chloe had come to her bedroom for a reason, presumably.

“What were you going to say?” she asks, tilting her head.

Chloe looks down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “Oh. Well. I was just going to ask…”

She trails off, and Beca waits with bated breath. Her stomach lurches with the sudden possibility that Chloe might _know_ , might be about to ask if Beca’s liking for girls extends to _her_ , and Beca’s really not sure how to answer that because she can’t lie but she can’t risk destroying the most important friendship she’s ever had and –

“Is that what… I mean, yesterday?” Chloe continues. “Like, the weirdness, or whatever? Was it about you liking girls?”

“Oh,” Beca exhales, hoping Chloe can’t see how relieved she is. “Yeah, that was… it was that.”

Chloe nods thoughtfully, looking marginally happier.

“Yeah,” Beca elaborates, wanting Chloe to understand. “I was just figuring it out, and I’d told Jesse and broken up with him, but I didn’t want to tell other people yet because I – because I was scared,” Beca finishes in a quieter voice.

Chloe frowns at her, eyebrows drawn together uncomprehendingly. “You were scared?” she asks.

Beca hesitates, then nods uncomfortably.

“You didn’t have to…” Chloe begins. “There’s no reason to be scared about this,” she says, looking at Beca like she’s never fully seen her before.

Beca squirms a little in her chair, unused to being scrutinized quite like this. Anyway, she disagrees; there are more reasons to be scared than not to be scared. She has too much to lose to not be scared.

She shrugs and replies, “It’s just hard.”

It’s more than ‘just hard,’ but she doesn’t want to get into it now.

“I suppose,” Chloe concedes, still watching Beca closely. Then, she sighs and her expression clears. “Well, I’m glad you told us now. Thank you for being… thanks for trusting us. It doesn’t change a thing,” she promises, eyes wide.

Beca wishes it could have at least changed one thing.

“Yeah,” she replies, “and… thanks. For listening, and for… yeah.”

Chloe smiles at her then, her signature Chloe Beale smile that is so warm and familiar and so _Chloe_ that it makes Beca forget about everything else.

“You wanna grab ice cream or something?” Chloe asks with a wink, rising from the bed.

Beca grins back. “You know it,” she agrees instantly, standing from her chair. “If I ever don’t want ice cream, then you know I’ve been replaced by an evil clone or something.”

Chloe just laughs and reaches for her hand, and Beca doesn’t pull away when their fingers link together. She only feels the smallest twinge of guilt – which she immediately shoves down – when the contact with Chloe’s skin makes her heart speed up.

She’s still got one secret from Chloe, but at the moment, she doesn’t care.


	10. Chapter 10 - Chloe

Chloe comes to awareness leisurely, stretching her limbs and inhaling slowly through her nose. She doesn’t open her eyes yet, preferring to bask in the joy of having nowhere to be on a Friday morning now that she’s graduated and has enough in her savings to not have to work the summer away.

She rolls to her side, movements languid. As usual, her first fully-formed thought of the day is of Beca. And as usual, she imagines how it would feel to wake up like this with Beca in her bed with her. That brown hair sleep-tousled, blue eyes hooded and unfocused from sleep, soft, warm skin pressed against Chloe’s where their bodies lie wrapped in one another. She thinks about how easy it would be to kiss Beca in that moment, how simple it would be to tangle their limbs and wake each other up properly, in a way that involves gasps and broken breaths and fingers dipping below the sheets...

No. She can’t think like this.

Chloe’s eyes open, shutting down her imagination.

Even now that Beca is officially not straight – which she’d called Aubrey to squeal over almost as soon she’d been able the day Beca had come out – it still feels inappropriate to think of her like this – naked, in bed – when they’re not dating.

And yet.

Chloe can’t help but wonder if today will be the day.

It has been sixteen days since Beca came out as something other than straight. Today will make seventeen. It’s not like Chloe’s some sort of stalker who keeps track of these things; the only reason she knows that is because for every single one of those days, she has been trying to muster the courage to make the first move and ask Beca on a date.

There’s an impatient monster living in her chest threatening to blurt out, “Date me!” or anything similar. It requires all of Chloe’s willpower to restrain it.

She wishes more than anything she could ask Beca on a date. It’s something she’s been envisioning doing since she first saw Beca in that red tank and gray top at the Activities Fair. Yet, even now that she knows Beca would potentially be interested in dating women, she can’t ask her. It’s too soon, it seems. After knowing Beca for as long as she has, Chloe understands that Beca needs time to process change.

And this seems like a big change.

It had never really occurred to Chloe that Beca might struggle with the realization that she’s not straight. To Chloe, it’s just something that is. It’s not something to be scared of, and it’s certainly not something to ever be ashamed of, but still Beca doesn’t seem totally comfortable with herself yet.

Chloe can see it in the way Beca blushes when Amy elbows her in the ribs whenever an attractive actress comes on screen. She sees it in how Beca has asked pretty much all of the Bellas if “it’s okay” that she likes girls (it’s almost insulting that Beca would ever think it _wouldn’t_ be okay). Chloe even saw it in the way Beca seemed awkward and nervous when, a few days after the Treble party, Jesse had come to visit for the last time before moving to LA.

It’s hard to watch, and even harder to fully understand.

What Chloe does understand perfectly well, though, is that it’s not her place to push. So, she’s forcing herself to wait until Beca’s ready and comfortable. _Then_ she’ll ask her out. Maybe.

Someone knocks on Chloe’s bedroom door, startling her from her thoughts.

“It’s open,” she calls, throat a little raspy from sleep.

The door clicks open and Chloe lifts her head from her pillow to see Jessica peeking in. “Chloe? It’s on, and it looks like they might announce it today,” she says, excitement in her voice.

Chloe takes a moment to process, her brain still fuzzy. When it hits, though, excitement kindles in her chest and she bolts upright in bed, her sheets falling down around her waist.

“Oh, God, sorry!” Jessica cringes, pulls back, and slams the door.

“What? Why?” Chloe asks loudly, alarmed by her exit.

“I – you’re – I didn’t know!” Jessica’s panicked voice sounds from the other side of the door. “Sorry!”

 Chloe stares at the door, totally confused. That’s when cool air hits her skin and she remembers. Face warming, she winces and yanks the sheets back up to her chin, even though Jessica’s already gone from the room.

“Uh, sorry!” she calls out. “I forgot!”

“You forgot you sleep naked?” Jessica asks, incredulous.

“Yep!” Chloe replies honestly. “I do it all the time, so. Slips my mind.”

“I wish I could slip that from my mind,” Jessica mutters.

Chloe grins and teases, “You like it.”

“With the amount of boob I’ve seen in this house, honestly…” Jessica trails off, then clears her throat. “So. Anyway. It looks like they’re announcing today. Any minute now.”

“Oh yeah!” Chloe replies, rocketing out of bed to get dressed frantically. “I thought they were going to wait until Monday?”

“Well, now it looks like today.”

Chloe moves rapidly, impatiently throwing her hair up into a messy bun. Excitement courses through her veins, tinged with nerves. If it happens… if it’s passed…

She crosses her room in a few quick strides and throws the door wide, startling Jessica waiting outside.

“That was quick,” she says, looking impressed.

Chloe grins. “Big day.”

Jessica half-shrugs. “Maybe.”

By the way she says it, Chloe can tell she’s trying not to get her hopes up. Just in case.

“One way to find out,” Chloe replies bracingly, and together they make their way down the stairs.

The other Bellas are gathered and spread around the sitting room, all watching the livestream of the decision being broadcasted from Ashley’s (or maybe Jessica’s) laptop. Cynthia Rose sits slightly off to the side on a phone call – likely to her girlfriend – with Amy sitting next to her, for once not teasing but rubbing a hand up her back soothingly. Beyond them, Beca sits off to the side in her own corner, but still watching the screen. Flo and Emily sprawl on the floor, Flo’s head resting on Emily’s stomach.

When they enter the room, Jessica moves to the couch and joins Ashley, Stacie, and Lilly (who is flicking a lighter on and off as a nervous tick). Chloe wants to join Beca in her lonely-looking corner, but knows that she wants space. She instead sits on the floor with Emily and Flo.

“Did I miss it?” she asks, suddenly tense. Seeing them all gathered together and hearing Cynthia Rose murmur to her fiancée on the phone has made everything very real.

“Not yet,” Emily replies, her eyes never leaving the screen. “But it should be any second now. I think they said at 10.”

Chloe glances at the time on the laptop: 9:57am. On the livestream, the camera focuses on the crowds in front of the Supreme Court Building, from which Pride and Equality flags wave. The newscast banner on the bottom of the screen displays, “Supreme Court Decision on Marriage Equality Pending,” in bold, blocky letters.

Chloe’s stomach flutters with nervous anticipation. She supposes it won’t change anything if it _doesn’t_ pass; things will stay as they are now. But if it does pass, it opens new doors for her and for countless others.

The tension in the Bella house is palpable, as if the very structure of the house is holding its breath right along with its occupants. It’s completely silent in the sitting room apart from the voices of the newscasters on the livestream; even Cynthia Rose and her fiancée on the phone wait in silence.

For a terrifyingly perfect instant, Chloe allows herself to imagine a future with Beca in which they could become legally married in any state across the country. She shoves the thought aside almost as soon as it forms, though; It’s dangerous to think like that with so many variables outside of her control.

“It’s starting,” Flo’s terse tone jolts Chloe’s stomach.

The Bellas draw a collective breath as the votes pop up on screen.

“The first is marriage,” Chloe hears herself say shakily.

“It’s down to Kennedy’s opinion,” Cynthia Rose whispers, but whether to the room at large or to her fiancée on the phone, it’s unclear.

The next second is perhaps the longest of Chloe’s life.

Then, something on the screen shifts and the Bellas are exploding around her in a flurry of cheers, laughter, and excited yells, and Chloe doesn’t – can’t – comprehend what’s happening even as she reads over and over the lines scrolling across the screen.

_BREAKING: Fourteenth Amendment requires a state to license a marriage between two people of the same sex_ _, and to recognize a marriage between two people of the same sex when a marriage was lawfully licensed and performed out of state._

It doesn’t make sense, those words don’t mean anything, so why is everyone celebrating? And then Stacie, Flo, and Emily are tackling her in a massive hug and yelling at her in excitement and meaning and sound return gradually until Chloe finally, _finally_ understands.

They won. Marriage equality passed across the country.

And now Chloe’s yelling and screaming too, incomprehensible syllables falling from her lips and she doesn’t even realize she’s crying until Stacie pulls a tissue out of nowhere and shoves it into her hand with a watery smile of her own.

Around her, the Bellas are in chaos. Flo, Emily, and Stacie are still in a heap on the floor; on the couch, Ashley, Jessica, and Amy pass around a bottle of rum, taking swigs directly from it; Lilly has the flame on her lighter going full blast while she stares into it with a terrifyingly large smile; Cynthia Rose cries openly and yells into her phone, “We’re legal now, baby. We don’t have to go to Maine to get married! Our relationship is legal! Your grandma can come to the wedding.”; and in the corner, Beca sits alone and quiet, her eyes wide and stunned as she takes in the scene in front of her.

As Chloe watches, Beca blinks rapidly and looks up toward the ceiling, her chin trembling and jaw clenching. Chloe winces in sympathy; she counts to 30 silently to give Beca time, then extracts herself from Stacie, Emily, and Flo. She stands slowly, taking the time to stretch out her limbs, and makes her way over to Beca.

Thankfully, Beca doesn’t turn away as she approaches. She stares in the direction of the laptop, glancing up at Chloe and smiling a little in greeting, but Chloe can still tell she’s fighting to hold herself together.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Chloe asks, settling down next to Beca without touching her, though she desperately wants to reach out.

“Yeah,” Beca clears her throat. “It’s… awesome.”

Chloe waits for her to say more, but she doesn’t. It’s clear, though, that Beca wants to talk; she’s tapping her fingers in the way she always does when she’s trying to connect the words in her mind. Chloe watches her hands move, almost as if she’s mixing together her thoughts as she would music.

“Did you see it was pretty close?” Beca mutters after a moment.

It takes Chloe a moment, before she realizes Beca’s referring to the vote passing 5 to 4.

Speaking slowly, Chloe says, “Yeah, but we won.”

“Yeah,” nods Beca with a shrug. “I guess.” Then she exhales, shaking her head. “It’s just… I don’t know, Chlo. There are still people out there who’d – they’d stop others from being happy because of their own, stupid reasons.”

“Bec…” Chloe trails off, not knowing what to say.

“Sheila,” Beca continues, her hands clenching into fists in her lap, “is one of those people. The step-monster,” she clarifies when Chloe doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah, I know who you mean,” Chloe reminds her, “but I didn’t know she was... like that. I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it. She can’t imagine what that must feel like.

Beca shrugs in acknowledgment but doesn’t reply.

Chloe draws her lower lip between her teeth; she’s burning to ask if Beca’s come out Sheila or her dad, but she knows Beca will tell her if and when she wants to.

Instead, she sighs and says, “Listen. Those people who – they don’t like us, oh well. Forget those people. They’re angry, and full of hate, and…” Chloe has to cut herself off so she doesn’t start ranting. That wouldn’t help Beca. After a moment, she continues, “They’re the ones who are wrong, not us. And the fact that we won today… that says something. Yeah?” she asks.

After a second, Beca nods, looking the tiniest bit happier. “Yeah,” she says. Then, “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Chloe answers. “And… any _thing_. You know that.”

Beca smiles at that, then her expression shifts to something Chloe can’t quite identify. Her eyebrows draw together and she takes a deep breath, her eyes darting around the room. For some reason, it makes Chloe’s heart pound in her ears and she suddenly feels nervous for whatever Beca has to say. Beca opens her mouth, eyes huge and scared.

“Chloe? Would –”

“Hey!” Amy’s loud voice cuts over her. “Champ’s has a special for the announcement! They just tweeted,” declares Amy, gesturing to her phone.

Chloe doesn’t bother to wonder why of all of them, Amy’s the one to follow the nearest gay bar on Twitter.

“Ooh, haven’t been there in ages!” Stacie says.

Amy grins at her. “Well, first three drinks are free starting at, uh, noon, so...”

“Wow, noon?” says Flo instantly. “Count me in.”

“Same!” Chloe replies excitedly.

“Me too,” Cynthia Rose adds, putting her phone away and wiping her eyes.

Stacie, Ashley, and Jessica look at each other and shrug. “Might as well,” Stacie speaks for all three of them.

“Twist my arm, I’ll go,” Amy says to no one in particular. “Though I’m not gonna be meeting any sexy men…”

“There’s free booze,” Emily reminds her, looking envious, and Chloe remembers that she’s not old enough to get into the bars yet.

“I can show you a dead body instead,” Lilly suggests to Emily in a whisper.

“Legacy, that was actually a good point coming from your dumb mouth,” Amy says approvingly, ignoring Lilly.

Chloe looks sideways at Beca, who stares at the floor with something like annoyance. Briefly, Chloe considers asking her what she’d wanted to say earlier, but the moment passed.

“Bec?” Chloe prompts instead. “Wanna come to Champ’s?”

Beca blinks and looks up at her. “I… it’s a gay bar?” she asks, a little uncertain.

Chloe nods in a way she hopes is reassuring.

“Just gay men or...?”

“Usually both,” Chloe replies quietly, sensing Beca’s discomfort.

Beca shifts in her seat, her eyes flicking over to where Cynthia Rose and Stacie are already planning their outfits. “Is it okay if I’ve never been there?”

“Totes,” Chloe promises. Usually, she, Stacie, and Cynthia Rose are the only ones who go to Champ’s. The others prefer to stay home and party or go to other bars. “You’re not the only one who’s never been before.”

“Oh, uh,” Beca hesitates, before making up her mind. “Yeah. Let’s do it. Free drinks right?” she says more loudly, getting the others’ attention.

“Woo!” Flo cheers. “Plus, you never know, Beca,” she adds with a wink. “You might meet some foxy lady.”

Chloe’s stomach flips.

Beca turns a little pink but doesn’t protest the statement. “Uh, we’ll see.”

“Eat some pineapple first!” Stacie calls out. “It’ll make you, uh, _taste_ good, if you know what I mean.”

Chloe wants to strangle her for saying that. _Um. No. That’s… no._

“Just don’t bring any girls back to our room,” Amy says, looking disturbed. “I don’t want your lesbian activity all over my stuff.”

Beca wrinkles her nose and says something in return, but Chloe can’t quite make it out over the buzzing in her ears. The image of Beca and some stranger getting together is… nauseating.

Chloe can feel Stacie’s and Cynthia Rose’s eyes on her but she refuses to look at them. It’ll only confirm what they already know.

Maybe taking Beca to a gay bar isn’t a good idea after all.

***********************

_Chloe’s drunk. She hadn’t meant to drink as much as she had – she’s got a little bit of a cold and isn’t sure how cold medicine and alcohol mix – but she’s had at least six, maybe seven shots in the past hour._

_It’s not her fault; both Stacie and the guy she just met keep buying her them. And she keeps drinking them._

_The night wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was supposed to be just her, Stacie, and Beca out for a girl’s night. They’re the last three Bellas in town for the Friday before Spring Break, and Chloe had been beyond excited to hit the bars._

_And then they ran into Jesse, which was apparently a surprise, as Beca thought he’d already gone out of town for break. Before Chloe can spit out a comment about how great their communication is after nearly two years of dating, Stacie’s ordered her a shot of Fireball._

_Beca and Jesse step aside, into the corner of the bar to have what looks like a serious discussion. Chloe knows they haven’t been doing very well lately, and she watches them argue with no small amount of satisfaction. She finds herself hoping the floor where Jesse stands is sticky._

_“I think I know what that’s about,” Stacie muses out loud, nodding to Beca and Jesse._

_Chloe glances at her, and Stacie elaborates, “She told me the sex isn’t very good, so she hasn’t been offering much.”_

_There’s a weird pounding in Chloe’s ears._

_For an instant, she’s angry at both Jesse and Stacie; Jesse for not treating Beca like she deserves, and Stacie for being privy to that information, but then the moment passes and Chloe’s back to being just disgusted with Jesse in general. She doesn’t want to hear anything else about how Beca’s being subjected to bad sex while she’s with him. She doesn’t want to think about Beca having sex with Jesse at all._

_Chloe reaches for the shot of Fireball that Stacie bought for her and downs it. Stacie smiles at her sympathetically and buys another._

_Chloe drinks the second one as she stands there, watching Beca and her useless boyfriend talk. A moment later, though, she wonders if she’s misread the situation because suddenly Jesse’s lips are on Beca’s and Chloe has to look away, her stomach churning._

_With a solemn grimace, Stacie buys her two more shots, tequila this time. Chloe downs them instantly, ignoring both the proffered lime and the worried expression on Stacie’s face._

_The night turns into a blur, and she’s suddenly dancing in the middle of the bar’s overcrowded dance floor, Stacie nearby. “Dancing” may be a loose term; Chloe’s swaying and twisting her hips sensually, arms raised into the air as she grinds – not drops, grinds – low. She’s giving it her everything, doing as best as she can to forget Beca and Jesse dancing only feet away. Jesse’s standing behind Beca, arms wrapped around her waist to hold her hips close to his._

_Out of nowhere, a strange body fits itself behind Chloe’s, pressing into her ass, and she can instantly tell it’s a male. She glances once at Stacie, getting an uncertain nod in return; the boy must be passably attractive. With a quick breath of air, Chloe rolls her hips backward with purpose, feeling his immediate approval._

_Chloe never does this. Never. She’s left bars for something like this before. But tonight, with Jesse grinding into Beca, sharing kisses with her that pierce Chloe’s heart like a knife, Chloe pushes herself further into the stranger behind her._

_His hands wander without shame over her body, starting at her hips and roaming up over her stomach, almost to her breasts, then down to her thighs before repeating the cycle. The fourth time he does it, he does reach her breasts, cupping them roughly._

_Stacie steps forward at the exact moment Chloe turns around, breaking the guy’s hold on her._

_“Hey, don’t!” she shouts over the music, supported by Stacie’s, “Back off, moron!”_

_The guy – a tall blonde about their age – drops his hands but doesn’t move away._

_“I thought you were into it,” he slurs back, eyes unfocused, and Chloe can already tell he won’t remember any of this tomorrow._

_Automatically, Chloe risks a look toward Beca. Her breath catches in her throat; Beca’s still dancing with Jesse, turned around now with her arms around his neck. She hasn’t even noticed the guy all over Chloe._

_It sends a new wave of vengefulness coursing through Chloe’s veins. She gives Stacie a significant look, then grabs the random boy’s hand and drags him off the dance floor to the bar, purposely knocking into Jesse as they go. She only hears Beca’s confused, “Chloe?” before she walks faster, stranger in tow and Stacie on their heels. They reach the bar in seconds._

_“Buy me a drink first,” she says to the blonde guy over the ringing in her ears. “Or maybe two.”_

_His entire face lights up at the prospect; he looks at Stacie questioningly, but she shakes her head with a frown, so he asks the bartender for four tequila shots._

_By the time the shots arrive, Beca and Jesse are stood there awkwardly, having followed from the dance floor. Jesse looks confused and annoyed, and keeps trying to talk to Beca, but Beca’s attention is all on Chloe; Chloe can feel her eyes focused on the back of her head._

**_Good_ ** _, she thinks savagely as she reaches for the first shot. She downs it as the boy drinks his own, then immediately goes for her second. He’s slower to react but matches her. As soon as he plops his empty glass on the bar, she reaches forward, grabs the back of his neck, and pulls him into a sloppy, alcohol-infused kiss that makes her stomach want to revolt._

_She deepens the kiss, imagining it’s Beca, imagining everything she would do to make Beca feel good, knowing she’s a better kisser than Jesse will ever be, telling herself it’s Beca while she’s tasting tequila on this stranger’s lips. She doesn’t feel a single thing._

_She hopes to God that Beca’s seeing this._

***********************

Taking Beca to a gay bar was the worst idea Chloe has ever had.

Well. Okay. Maybe deciding on the gold tracksuits for the Convention Performance was the worst idea she’s ever had. But taking her best friend (who she has _much_ more than a little crush on) to a gay bar filled with single women looking for other single women is definitely high on the list of “Chloe’s Beale’s Worst Ideas.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Stacie yells to her over the deafening throb of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.” “Stop staring at her and have some fun!”

“I’m having fun!” Chloe insists at the top of her voice, tearing her eyes away from where Beca stands at the bar chatting up some blonde. Her second blonde in the fifteen minutes they’ve been at Champ’s.

Chloe would be impressed if she wasn’t too busy trying not to scream. Somehow, with Jesse out of the way, she’d failed to consider that Beca might start dating anyone else. It hadn’t seemed like a possibility.

The blonde laughs at something Beca says and Beca grins shyly in response, taking a sip from her drink. Chloe doesn’t even realize she’s glaring until Stacie snaps her fingers in front of her face.

“Hey,” Stacie says. “You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm.”

“Sorry,” Chloe sighs. “It’s just – I didn’t expect that. And did you really have to make that pineapple comment earlier?”

Stacie cringes, looking apologetic. “I didn’t think before I said it,” she says, then glances over at Beca and the blonde disapprovingly. “And, yeah, well. Let’s find the others.”

Everyone else had made a beeline for the dance floor as soon as they’d gotten their first free drink from the bar. Chloe had wanted to wait for Beca, and Stacie had stood by her side. However, as time goes on, it seems like Beca won’t be leaving the bar anytime soon.

Chloe shakes her head frantically. “I’m not leaving her. It’s her first time,” she insists.

Stacie rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment even though they both know that’s not the only reason Chloe doesn’t want to let Beca out of her sight. She stands on her tiptoes and scans the bar; after a moment, she waves at someone, and Chloe knows she must be flagging down Amy, Cynthia Rose, Flo, Jessica, and Ashley on the dance floor.

Once she’s done, she turns to Chloe and shouts, “Let’s take a picture!”

It’s barely 1:00pm, and yet, with the free drink special starting at noon, the bar is packed with people. The place is so crowded that Chloe barely has the room to extract her phone from her jeans to take a selfie with Stacie. She smiles at Aubrey’s congratulatory text about Supreme Court decision, then pulls Stacie in with an arm around her shoulder and snaps the selfie.

When she lowers her phone, her stomach twists; the blonde next to Beca has been replaced by yet another girl. This one has red hair.

Chloe is shocked; even for a Friday, the girls seem to be more outgoing than usual. Some nights, Chloe will go to Champ’s in her best outfits, and not a single girl will talk to her, and yet, in the span of only a few minutes Beca has had three different ones. Chloe tries to chalk it up to the free booze and the good news for marriage equality.

The fact that Beca looks absolutely stunning in boots, skinny jeans, and a dark red top that gives clear view of her cleavage might also have something to do with it.

The red-haired girl now talking to Beca leans forward, very much into Beca’s space. Chloe expects Beca to pull back, and she does, but only slightly. Then, instead of walking away, Beca reaches to touch the girl’s shoulder and laughs at something she’s said.

Chloe’s jaw just about hits the floor. She has half a mind to go over there and demand that Beca get a different drink – clearly the strange girl had put something in hers – when an arm throws itself over her shoulders.

“Whew!” Amy says, following her gaze. “Looks like Shorty’s gonna get some tonight.”

“Absolutely not,” Chloe says, icily. “She’s not ready to get some of anything. She’s still getting comfortable with herself.”

Amy stares at her, eyebrows raised. “Um, I don’t know about that. Looks more like she’s getting comfortable with that chick.”

Some sort of snarl tears itself free from Chloe’s throat and Amy reclaims her arm, looking terrified. Forcing herself to turn away from the nauseating image of Beca with The Red Slut, Chloe pivots on the spot and urges her body into her usual grinding, hip rolling dance. If Beca can meet some new people, then so can she.

Her bravado lasts approximately fifteen seconds. Chloe catches a very pretty Asian-looking girl eyeing her hopefully from the edge of the dance floor. Ordinarily, Chloe would have smiled back, maybe even winked at the girl. The second the thought occurs, though, Chloe realizes she doesn’t really want to do that.

So, to ease the awkwardness, she puts her arm around Stacie’s waist and tugs her close, smiling gently at the girl at the dance floor. Her eyes widen in understanding and she nods politely. Chloe watches as her eyes roam over the crowded bar to land… directly on Beca.

Of course.

Chloe’s stomach sours and she drops her arm from Stacie’s waist. She can’t stop herself from glancing over to Beca as well, just in time to see the red-haired girl reach forward to slip a piece of paper _into_ Beca’s shirt, tucking it under her bra strap. She starts to lean in, as if to kiss Beca.

Chloe has to look away, a hot pain searing through her chest. She doesn’t see if Beca allows the girl to kiss her.

“Chloe? You good?” Flo asks, frowning.

Before Chloe can answer, though, Beca appears out of nowhere, looking slightly ruffled. Chloe pointedly ignores the scrap of paper she can see poking from her shirt.

Beca’s mouth moves, but Chloe can’t hear it over the bar’s remix of George Michael’s “Freedom ‘90.”

“What?” she asks, leaning her ear closer to Beca’s mouth. She struggles to ignore how hot Beca’s breath feels on her neck.

“This is a lot,” Beca shouts into her ear. “Can we please leave?”

Relief crashes over Chloe; she’d wanted to leave almost as soon as they’d arrived.

She doesn’t bother replying verbally because of the music. Instead, she just nods, grabs Beca’s hand (trying and failing to ignore the typical _zing_ that comes with touching Beca), and leads her toward the exit. She makes eye contact with Stacie as they push past, and Stacie nods in understanding – she and Beca will have privacy for a few minutes until Stacie manages to round up the others.

As Chloe moves to the exit, Beca in tow, she locks eyes with one of the blondes who’d tried chatting up Beca earlier; the girl sends her a nasty glare when she sees Beca’s hand in hers, and Chloe returns the glare with a petty smile. It’s immature, and what’s happening between her and Beca isn’t what the blonde thinks, but it sure feels good to let her think that way.

They finally break free of the crowd and push their way outside, blinking in the midday light. Chloe pulls Beca around to the side of the building, where it’s quieter and they’ll have space from the line waiting for entry out front. As soon as they’re out, Chloe drops Beca’s hand and takes a half-step away, giving her room to breathe after the crush of people in the bar.

Beca sighs and leans her back against the brick building, closing her eyes and tilting her head up.

“You okay?” Chloe asks after a moment.

Beca inhales deeply, then nods and opens her eyes. “Yeah, just… it was kind of a lot.”

“You mentioned,” Chloe smiles tentatively.

Beca grins back. A second later, though, she frowns and looks down at her chest; she reaches inside her shirt and plucks the paper from under her bra strap. She stares at it wordlessly for a minute before crumpling it and tossing it into the wastebasket at the corner of the building.

Chloe takes that as a good sign. She partly wants to ask if Beca kissed that girl, but it’s really none of her business.

Beca looks down at the ground, covered in litter despite the presence of the wastebasket. She shuffles her feet, and Chloe can again detect that same nervous energy she’d been emitting earlier, back in the Bella house.

And when Beca looks up at her, more scared than Chloe’s ever seen her, she already knows what she’s going to ask half a heartbeat before the words leave her lips.

“Chloe? Will you go out with me, please?”


	11. Chapter 11 - Beca

In retrospect, going to her first gay bar on the day gay marriage was legalized in all fifty states was perhaps not Beca’s brightest idea. She really should have guessed how crowded it would be. Then again, the others had made it sound like it would be a lot of fun, and she had wanted to experience something new as part of her “becoming comfortable with herself and her own sexuality” thing.

Overall, it hadn’t been terrible, not by any means. It had been actually pretty cool to see all the people in the bar. The people who, presumably, are something other than straight. In other words, people with whom she had something in common. To see them all there, celebrating together the marriage equality law (and free alcohol) had been one of her best experiences so far as a recently out person.

The music, though, left a lot to be desired. Who the hell thinks ABBA is acceptable dance music? If she ever goes back to the bar, she fully intends to bully the DJ into using one of her mixes to show these people what real music sounds like.

Not that she’s really planning on going back. It had been one thing to be surrounded by people she identifies with in some way, but it was an entirely different experience to be hit on by three different girls in less than half an hour.

It hadn’t been bad – it had pretty flattering, actually – but it was a lot. She’s not exactly sure when the idea had occurred to her, but somewhere amid conversation with the very first blonde – Brianna? Becky? – she’d decided to use Chloe as a scapegoat.

“Oh, sorry, it was nice to meet you, but I’m actually here with my girlfriend,” she’d said, pointing surreptitiously over to where Chloe had been dancing with Stacie.

She’d used the same line on the second blonde, whose name she doesn’t think she ever caught, and then again with the red-haired girl. It had felt a little weird to lie about being in a relationship with Chloe, though they’ve done it countless times before at bars whenever a weird guy would hit on one of them.

(Why Beca didn’t just tell those guys she was dating Jesse, she doesn’t know.)

It wasn’t until the redhead kept pushing, even giving her her number and leaning in to whisper in her ear, that Beca realized that the lie she was telling all these girls had started to feel a little too comfortable.

She knows why. She’d be an idiot not to. It’s because Chloe is the only person she can ever see herself being with. Not just the only _girl_ , but the only person. The distinction suddenly seems very important.

She’d been trying to get rid of her feelings for Chloe since she first realized them at the retreat. It hadn’t even come close to working, so she gave up on that strategy days ago. She’s not sure if it’s because feelings don’t work like that, or because she’s felt that way toward Chloe for much, much longer than just the retreat. A part of her wonders if it’s been even since the Activities Fair.

“Excuse me,” Beca had cut off the redhead mid-lean, easing past her to get to Chloe, who’d been talking to Flo.

She got Chloe’s attention, and a few moments later, to Beca’s intense relief, they’d headed toward the exit. Some blonde glared at them on the way out, and it took Beca a second to realize she was one of the ones who’d hit on her earlier. Brittney? Beth? Whatever.

A second later, they were outside and around the side of the building. Beca had been relieved the Bellas didn’t follow right away; she’d needed some space and didn’t want an audience for what she’d known she had to do.

Which is what she struggles with now, leaning against the side of the building with her eyes closed. She knows what she wants to do. It’s just finding the courage to do it that’s the hard part.

“You okay?”

Beca reopens her eyes, finding Chloe’s. “Yeah, just… it was kind of a lot.”

“You mentioned,” Chloe smiles, and instantly it makes Beca feel better.

Chloe has that effect on her. Has always had that effect.

Something is scratching at her chest. Oh, yeah, the paper with that girl’s number. God. Who even does that? Just slides a number under someone’s bra like that. It’s gross.

Beca fishes it out and looks at it for second, thinking about what the girl had said to her after she’d put the number in her shirt. _If that girlfriend of yours stops making you happy, give me a call._

Beca crumples the scrap and throws it in the garbage; she’ll never need it.

Chloe will never stop making her happy.

Nerves churn Beca’s stomach and her mouth goes dry. If Chloe doesn’t feel the same way, this is going to complicate things between them. The nerves in her stomach change to nausea, and she wonders if perhaps she should lean over the garbage can; it’s there for a reason.

She almost changes her mind. She almost doesn’t do it.

But when she looks up and sees Chloe watching her so carefully, it settles something deep within her. If she doesn’t ask now, she never will. And that’s intolerable.

“Chloe? Will you go out with me, please?”

It’s the scariest thing she’s ever done. Way, way worse than coming out. A million times worse. It maybe shouldn’t be, but it is.

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Beca freezes, waiting for Chloe to do something. Anything.

Chloe seems just as frozen as Beca feels, her eyes wide and lips parted.

Oh, god. She’d been wrong to ask. It wasn’t what Chloe wanted, and now she’s going to reject Beca and everything is ruined between them forever. She has to fix this, now.

Beca’s brain stutters and stalls, until she chokes out “Shit, I –”

“Did you say what I think you said?” Chloe cuts her off. Her tone gives nothing away.

Beca has half a mind to laugh it off and claim she’d said something else. For a wild second, she thinks it might actually work, but knows that she can’t do that. Chloe knows what she’s said, and besides, she’d regret it later.

“I… asked you out?”

Chloe nods at her slowly, biting her lower lip. Her fingers tap at her thighs, a nervous habit Beca doubts she even knows she has. Beca isn’t sure what the nod means.

“Will you go out with me?” Beca asks again, her heart about a second away from throwing itself from her throat.

Chloe looks down at the litter-covered pavement. She inhales slowly.

“Chloe? What –”

“No.”

The ground lurches from under Beca’s feet.

“No?” a stranger with her voice croaks out.

“No,” Chloe repeats. “I won’t go out with you.”

Beca can’t get enough air. The world swims dangerously.

Chloe won’t stop looking at the ground.

“You… I… why?” Beca knows it’s childish to ask. She should say, “Okay,” and move on like an adult, but she can’t.

“Beca, I…” Chloe tells the concrete, “there’s just –”

“Look at me!” Beca interrupts, anger flaring through her unexpectedly.

Chloe flinches at the volume and tone. It sends a pang through Beca’s chest and she softens.

“At least look at me,” she pleads, more gently. “Please.”

Chloe hesitates, but raises her eyes. Beca inhales sharply and takes a step back automatically; Chloe looks at her with so much pain that Beca feels it in her own chest, burning away the air in her lungs.

“Chlo…” she manages, utterly at a loss.

“I can’t go out with you,” Chloe whispers, her eyes watering and chin trembling. She tilts her face to the sky, as if trying to keep the tears from falling. “It’s not fair,” her voice cracks.

“What? Why not?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t –”

Chloe turns away. Instantly, Beca reaches and grabs her arm, stopping her.

“No way,” she says through gritted teeth. “Running is my thing. Chloe, talk to me. Please,” she adds when Chloe doesn’t turn. “If it’s – if you’re not attracted to me, or you don’t like me like that, then it’s – it’s _fine_ , but talk to me.”

Chloe flinches again, her arm twitching in Beca’s grip, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Please,” Beca whispers. “Don’t run. Please.”

Five seconds pass. Then ten. Fifteen.

“Chl –”

“I like you too much,” Chloe says without turning around.

And it floors Beca, absolutely stops her heart in her chest because Chloe just said those words, Chloe said she likes her, and yet Chloe’s still not even looking at her and she’d said no and –

 “And all this – wanting to date girls – it’s so new for you. I’m worried… I’m scared it’s too early. I’m scared I’m not what you…” Chloe trails off, then turns to face Beca, breaking the grip on her arm. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are wide and scared. “I’ve seen this happen before, Bec. Where friends get so caught up that they’re both gay, or – or whatever… they date on a whim, and it blows up and they never speak again. I can’t do that if that’s what this is. I like you too much,” she finishes, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Beca stares, shaken, unable to comprehend the words coming from Chloe’s mouth.

Chloe smiles at her sadly and starts to turn away again, and it snaps Beca’s brain back into focus.

“That’s – no, that’s – I really like you too!” she blurts out.

Chloe pauses. “Beca, it’s –”

“No! Listen!” Beca urges, her hands lacing behind her neck. “It’s not like that! I’ve liked you for – for a long time. Since the beginning, maybe, I just… I was stupid, and scared, and I didn’t think it was ever an option for me!”

She’s rambling now, but this seems like her one chance to maybe be with Chloe, and there’s no way she’s giving up without a fight.

“Look, do you know how I figured out – all this about myself?” she asks.

Chloe hesitates, then shakes her head slowly. “Kommissar?” she shrugs.

Beca’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? Her? No!” Beca insists. “She made me question, maybe, but it was because of you! It was all you, Chlo.” Chloe’s mouth pops open in surprise, but Beca keeps going. “I was just – I didn’t know what to do with that! I’ve always lo – liked you so, so much. This isn’t some fling, it’s – Chloe, I’ve liked you for years, and I want to date you,” Beca finishes loudly, breathing hard.

Chloe stares at her, stunned. After a moment, she blinks. “Are you – really?” she asks, sounding amazed.

“Yes!” Beca half-yells back. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but please don’t. I know what I want, and I want to be with you.”

Chloe’s shaking her head before she’s even finished her sentence. Beca’s heart sinks, and she’s positive Chloe’s going to reject her. Her eyes sting preemptively, and Chloe’s opening her mouth and Beca steels herself, ready for the worst.

“Beca… do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to go out with you?”

“No, I – what?”

Chloe laughs shakily. “I’ve always liked you too. From the beginning.”

“Oh, that’s –”

“Shush,” Chloe cuts her off, but with a smile to soften it. “How could you ever think I’m not attracted to you, when being with you is all I’ve been thinking about since – since you came out. I really, really like you too, and that…” Chloe shrugs. “Yes. I want to go out with you.”

Beca feels into a smile so wide she feels her face might actually crack from the strain. Chloe mirrors it, and in that moment, Beca is so happy she doesn’t know what to say beyond, “Cool.”

Chloe just smiles even more widely. “Very cool,” she says, and then looks down, her fingers again tapping at her thighs. “And, listen, for earlier… I didn’t want to say no, it actually kind of killed me, I just thought – well, this is new for you and for us and I didn’t want to take advantage and –”

“It’s okay,” Beca cuts her off quickly. “Really. I understand. You were trying to protect me,” she shrugs.

“Yeah,” Chloe breathes, looking relieved. “Maybe it’s dumb, but I wanted to make sure,” she shrugs apologetically.

Beca nods, understanding. “It’s okay,” she repeats.

Chloe shifts her weight. “And... that girl? With the red hair? It’s none of my business, but did you two...” she trials off, gesturing in the air.

“Oh!” Beca laughs in surprise; she’d forgotten all about the girl. “No, nothing happened. She gave me her number and, uh, said to call her,” she replies.

Chloe nods, looking relieved. “Sorry, I just…”

“It’s chill,” Beca says, rubbing the back of her neck. “Um. So, date?”

“Yeah!” Chloe enthuses, actually bouncing up on her tiptoes a little. “When did you have in mind?”

Beca makes a show of checking the time on her phone, excitement kindling in her chest. “Well,” she hedges, “it’s only like 1:30. Maybe… tonight?”

“Oh, totes,” Chloe nods, her eyes bright. “I didn’t want to wait, either.”

Beca smiles hugely, happiness filling her chest like a balloon. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up at 7?” she jokes with a wink.

“Awes,” Chloe beams back.

Beca isn’t sure what to do then – do they hug? shake hands? – but is saved by the loud scuffling and mingled swearing that announces the presence of the rest of the Bellas, having left the bar.

“Ouch, shit! Oh, there’s Bhloe,” Amy says when she spots them. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Yeah,” Flo says loudly. “What –”

She cuts herself off, stopping dead to stare at them. They all stare, actually – Stacie, Amy, Jessica, Ashley, Flo, and Cynthia Rose. Stacie’s mouth hangs open. It’s more than a little unnerving.

“What?” Beca asks, paranoid. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, but you guys look… different,” Stacie says, her words slurring slightly.

The scrutiny sends Beca into a sudden panic; she doesn’t want the others to know about her and Chloe yet. It’s too soon to tell anyone anything. Besides, what if they think it’s weird or what if she and Chloe go on the one singular date and it ends horribly and the Bellas feel like they have to pick a side? Beca opens her mouth to come up with some excuse, but Chloe cuts her off.

“It’s nothing,” Chloe assures them calmly. “You’re all just drunk.”

“Well, we had to cash in those free drinks,” Stacie insists, “whether you two wanted to leave or not.”

“Right! Wasn’t this a great idea?!” Cynthia Rose adds. She is very enthusiastically drunk.

“Uh huh,” Beca deadpans. “I guess I’m driving us home.”

“I’m fine!” Ashley insists, stepping forward and tripping on the flat sidewalk.

Chloe catches her, holding her upright. “Yep, you’re driving,” she says to Beca.

“Right,” Beca grumbles, grabbing the keys from Ashley’s pocket.

It’s not all bad, though; as they make their way as a group to Ashley’s minivan, Beca catches Chloe’s eye and they share a quick, secret smile.

*******************

_“I’m not graduating.”_

_Beca stares at Chloe in shock. “Again?” slips out before she can stop it._

_Chloe’s expression shifts, becoming guarded, and Beca immediately backtracks._

_“No, I mean… I thought you felt really good about graduating this year,” she says, not wanting to offend her best friend._

_Chloe half-shrugs, her expression back to normal. “Yeah, but I decided to stay. Your junior year will be a hard one, and I don’t want you to have to captain the Bellas alone.”_

_“Chlo…” Beca sighs, “that’s really nice of you, and I appreciate it, but don’t you want to –”_

_“No,” Chloe cuts her off. “I want to stay with y – the Bellas. You guys are my family.”_

_Beca never could resist Chloe’s pout._

_(Besides, she’s happier than she cares to admit at the thought of a third year with Chloe at her side.)_

_She nods eventually and grins at her co-captain. “So, is it too early to start thinking about next year’s set?”_

_Chloe beams back, her eyes filled with something Beca can’t quite identify._

_“No. Not too early at all.”_

*******************

As soon as they walk through the front door of the Bella house, Amy shouts, “The party starts now, aca-bitches!”

Seconds later, everyone has congregated in the kitchen to watch Amy rifle through their extensive liquor cabinet.

“Welcome back!” Emily squeals as soon as she sees Beca. “How was it?”

“It was different!” Beca replies, fighting to maintain a poker face while Chloe winks at her from behind Emily. “Very... unexpected.”

“Really?” Stacie snorts, holding a bottle of raspberry vodka. “You mean you weren’t expecting to have about a million girls throw themselves at you?”

“ _What?_ ” Emily gasps so loudly it makes Beca flinch. “Spill!”

“Uh, actually, I have to go shopping,” Beca says, her face warming.

Emily looks disappointed, but before she can comment, Amy barrels between them, a bottle of what might be Everclear clutched in her hand.

“What?” Amy stares at Beca. “You can’t miss the party,” she protests.

“Sorry, Amy, but I really do need to go shopping.”

It’s true; if she’s going to pull off her plan for a first date with Chloe, she needs to hit the grocery store.

“Why?” Amy squints at her. “You gotta get ice cream for Chloe again?”

At the sound of her name, Chloe glances up from where she’s trying to keep Lilly from setting fire to whatever alcohol is in her shot glass.

“Uh, yeah, that’s – yep,” Beca rolls with it, figuring it’s the easiest way out.

Amy grins and makes an obnoxiously loud whip-cracking sound; it’s all Beca can do to keep from strangling her.

“Amy, can you help Flo with the Jungle Juice?” Chloe calls. “She might need help.”

At that, Flo looks up, irritated, and mutters something in Spanish; still, she allows Amy to wander over and assist with organizing the growing pile of alcohol and fruit on the counter.

Beca flashes Chloe a grateful smile, mouthing silently, “Pick you up at 7!”

Chloe merely grins back and nods, then makes a shooing motion with her hand. Beca spins on the spot, heading out the front door. She still has Ashley’s keys, so she hops in the driver’s seat of her minivan and starts it, already composing a mental list of what she needs to buy. She backs out of the driveway carefully, her entire body lighting up with excitement at the thought of the date.

She’s known for weeks what a first date with Chloe Beale would look like, should she be the one to plan it. She knows Chloe loves picnics, so a quiet picnic in a corner of the park in town sounds absolutely perfect for a first date. It’ll give them room to talk and hang out with minimal risk of the Bellas interrupting or anyone else seeing them.

Maybe it’s silly, but she doesn’t want other people to see them. She may be becoming increasingly comfortable with her own sexuality, but that doesn’t mean she needs to broadcast it to the rest of the world. Marriage equality passing or not, Beca hasn’t forgotten that the vote was alarmingly close. Thinking back to what Cynthia Rose had said about slurs she and her fiancée have been called, Beca doesn’t really feel a need to put herself or Chloe at more risk than necessary. Maybe it shouldn’t bother her – maybe she shouldn’t care so much about what other people think – but she does care, and it _does_ bother her.

So, at least for now, Beca is okay keeping their dates relatively private. Eventually, she wants to take Chloe to the movies or to a restaurant or out dancing; Chloe deserves that. It’s just. That’ll come later.

Later.

Which implies a passage of time. Beca swallows hard, pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store.

It’s the end of June. Their lease ends on August 15th.

Less than two months away.

Beca parks the car and turns it off, noting the slight tremor in her hands. Two months is nothing.

She’s already applied for two music production jobs with positions starting in September: one in New Orleans and one in Tallahassee. She plans on applying for several more across the country.

And Chloe? Chloe’s got to be applying for teaching jobs, right? Does she have to go get more schooling for that? Beca’s stunned to realize she doesn’t even know what Chloe’s doing after the summer. She hasn’t asked; since the retreat, she’s been so inwardly focused that it had slipped her mind.

God. What will happen when they all move away? She’s not sure she can handle a long-distance relationship with Chloe – the need to be close to her now is almost overwhelming. But then what? Do they just… end?

The thought sends fear shooting down Beca’s spine like ice. If they go their separate ways after August, then there’s no point for this date now. There’s no point in getting to know Chloe _like that_ if it’s just going to end with them ripped apart from each other.

Or.

On the other hand, dating in general might go so horribly that they break up, and then when they move, they never see each other again.

Beca’s breathing turns erratic.

Imagined scenarios flash in Beca’s mind, one after the other like a twisted movie reel of misery, images of her and Chloe fighting, screaming at each other, utterly ruining their relationship and friendship. Then she sees worse images of them getting closer and closer, only to be ripped apart by the distance in the end.

What’s the point, then?

Before Beca fully registers what she’s doing, she’s gasping for air, fumbling for her bag and extracting her phone. She taps on the first name she thinks of, without considering it hasn’t been long enough yet or how it’s utterly unfair for her to do so; all she can think about is what it would feel like to lose Chloe, and how the massive hole that would form in her chest at the loss would never heal.

“Hello?”

She almost cries in relief at the sound of Jesse’s voice, far away in LA.

“Beca?” he asks when she doesn’t answer right away. “Everything okay?”

“No, it’s not, I –”

She cuts off at the realization of what she’s about to say, and at how selfish it had been to call him.

“What?” he asks, concerned now.

“I – I asked Chloe out on a date,” Beca says in a rush, squeezing her eyes closed in anticipation of his anger.

A deafening silence fills the line. She nibbles at her lower lip, waiting, wanting him to be able to talk first.

“When did that happen?” he asks eventually, his voice careful and controlled.

“Today. Like. An hour ago.”

“Was it… did the news have anything to do with that? Congrats, by the way. It’s about time.”

She re-opens her eyes in surprise. He’d never been one to pay attention to the news, and they’d never really discussed the marriage equality issue before.

“What did she say?” Jesse asks, bringing her back to the present.

“She – she said yes,” says Beca, hearing the thinly veiled excitement in her own voice and wincing.

Again, silence. Outside in the parking lot, an older man gives her a strange look as he returns his cart at the collection stall across from her parked car.

“Jess?”

“I… good for you, Beca,” he says, and she’s relieved at just how _normal_ he sounds. “I mean that. Really, I’m – I hope it goes well.”

She hesitates, then asks, “You’re not mad?”

“No. I’m not,” Jesse answers in a way that she can tell is honest. “You know, I’m surprised you took this long.”

Even from across the country, she can hear the amusement in his voice and pictures him smiling into the phone.

“So, what are you freaking out about?” he continues.

Beca sighs, running a hand through her hair and resting her forehead against the steering wheel with a soft thud. “It’s – it’s everything!” she exclaims. “What if we break up and we’re not friends anymore? Or what if we don’t, and we have to live across the country in September? I’m applying for jobs, and she is too, and we have no business starting anything like this now!” She’s breathing hard again, the reality of their situation setting in with every word.

“Woah!” Jesse interrupts, “Here’s where I’m gonna stop you, and you need to listen.”

She chokes on her words, taken aback.

“Okay, so,” Jesse says, the connection crackling a little when he sighs into the phone. “First, you can’t go into any relationship thinking about the ending. That’s just bad practice. There’s too much you can’t control here.”

She opens her mouth, ready to argue, but he must sense it because he only speaks louder.

“Second, has it occurred to you to apply for jobs in the same cities? And even if you do end up splitting, well, we broke up and we’re still friends! Plus, you never know. Dating her might be really good for you both.” He pauses, and then says, “Okay, now you can talk.”

She really wishes he could see her roll her eyes.

“I hate when you’re so logical,” she groans, sitting upright in the seat and leaning her head against the headrest.

“You called me, remember,” he teases, his voice light again.

She smiles in spite of herself. “Yeah, I was freaking out a little. It’s just... God, Jesse, why didn’t I do this sooner? I had four years and now it’s down to two months and I –”

She stops instantly, realizing what she’s just said. He doesn’t say anything, and Beca wants to kick herself.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I didn’t think.”

Jesse sighs, sounding tired. “It’s okay, Beca. We talked about this already,” he reminds her gently. “It’s okay. And it’s not too late for you two, I promise.

She cringes. He was always too nice. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yes, as long as I get eternal ‘I told you so’ bragging rights.”

“Mphf. Maybe.”

That makes him laugh, and she smiles at the sound of it. She’s missed him more than she knew.

“How’s LA?” she asks, both to change the subject and also because she’s actually curious.

“You know, I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replies, sounding happier than she’s heard him in a while. “I’ve had a couple people call about renting the room, so that’s good.” Then, possibly to prevent her from feeling guilty about bailing on rent with him, he adds in a rush, “Now, get off the phone with me and go get your girl!”

She glances at the clock in the car; it’s almost 3:30 already.

“Oh yeah! I – yes! Bye!” and then, because she hasn’t told him in a while, she says, “Love you, nerd.”

It’s so much easier to say it now that they both know what kind of love it is.

“Love you too, Bec. Call whenever. And congrats again!”

She hangs up with a smile on her face.

* * *

At 6:50, Beca finishes the final touches on her appearance, adding one spritz of the perfume she knows Chloe likes. She’s nervous, but more excited than anything.

The food for their picnic waits in the kitchen, ready to be loaded into Chloe’s car. Beca had bought champagne and wine, but also some regular apple juice because in the store she’d blanked on whether Chloe actually likes champagne or not. (She does – Beca remembered as soon as she’d gotten home.)

She also had prepared grapes, strawberries, some carrots, dark chocolates, and had made sandwiches for them both. She’d packed all the food into a large picnic basket she’d bought for the occasion and had borrowed the red-checkered tablecloth belonging to the Bella house at large. She’s got a playlist created on her phone, and one of her several Bluetooth speakers. She remembered the bug spray and water bottles, a flashlight just in case, an umbrella even though the skies are supposed to be clear, and a few extra blankets.

She might be overprepared.

Beca looks at the digital clock on her nightstand. 6:55. Showtime.

With a final deep breath and glance in the mirror – she’d gone with her usual skinny jeans, a gray tank, and the purple plaid shirt Chloe had once complimented her on – she steps down the stairs from her attic room to the second floor landing.

Outside Chloe’s door, Beca only hesitates long enough to try to get her heart to calm down. When it doesn’t really work, she gives up and knocks on the door. It opens almost instantly, and she has to hold back a gasp; Chloe looks amazing in the same patterned blue dress Beca had first met her in at the Activities Fair. Her hair is curled gently and her makeup is done perfectly. She steals Beca’s breath from her lungs instantly.

“You’re early,” Chloe teases with a smile.

Beca shrugs. “Yeah, sorry, I left early in case traffic was a bitch.”

It’s a lame line, but it makes Chloe laugh, and that’s all Beca really cares about. Chloe steps out into the hallway, closing her bedroom door behind her. Together, they walk down the stairs to the main floor.

“So, where are we going?” Chloe asks.

“I thought we’d have a picnic,” Beca replies, knowing she’d made the right decision by the way Chloe’s entire face lights up. “I already got the food and stuff ready, so we just have to load it.”

Chloe nods, lifting a finger to her lips to quiet Beca when they reach the ground floor so the other Bellas won’t hear them. Though it quickly becomes apparent that they don’t need to worry about that; the ground floor looks like a war zone. It’s early in the evening but considering that most of the house had started drinking at noon, Beca isn’t overly surprised to see bodies sprawled across the kitchen, sitting room, and hallway.

Almost everyone is already asleep; on the couch, Ashley cuddles a jar of peanuts, while Stacie and Jessica are slumped into each other’s sides, fast asleep. The kitchen is witness to a similar massacre, with Cynthia Rose, Amy, and Flo slumped in their chairs, leaning onto the table. Lilly lies flat on the table’s surface. She picks up her head to stare at Beca and Chloe as they walk by.

Nonplussed, Beca waves at her. Lilly lifts the index finger of her left hand, bends it twice in a sort of wave, and drops her arm back to her side.

“Oookayyy,” Beca draws out, while Chloe giggles. “I just gotta grab…”

She scoops the basket and tablecloth up into her arms, and Chloe grabs the Bluetooth speaker. Everything else is already in Chloe’s car.

They close the front door quietly behind them and shuffle over to the car.

“Guess that takes care of them,” Beca snorts, shaking her head.

“At least we didn’t have to make something up,” Chloe says, placing the speaker in the backseat next to where Beca drops the picnic basket and cloth.

Beca glances up at her. “Um, I know it’s your car,” she says, “but is it chill if I drive? I just – I know where we’re going.”

“Yep!” chirps Chloe, sliding into the passenger seat gracefully.

A second later, Beca takes her place behind the wheel, and then they’re off. The drive passes quickly; the park is only 15 minutes away from their house. Chloe turns on the radio and hums along to “Pocketful of Sunshine” as she stares out the window. The whole thing is so normal and so _Chloe_ that it puts Beca at ease, as if this is just a normal road trip for them rather than a date.

Once at the park, they lift everything out from the back seat, and Beca leads the way to a quiet little clearing near the top of a hill. Chloe looks at her a little funny when, on the way there, Beca steers them out of their way to go wide around a larger group of people sprawled on the grass, but she doesn’t comment on that or on the secluded little spot.

Beca opens the tablecloth and settles it over the grass, then places the picnic basket in the middle while Chloe unfolds the blankets. Beca pulls out the champagne, wine, juice, and the rest of the food, and sets up her Bluetooth speaker to play her prepared _For Chloe_ playlist.

Once it’s all set up, she takes a moment to survey everything to make sure it looks okay.

“Bec,” Chloe whispers, closer to Beca than she’d thought. “This is perfect. Thank you so, so much for this.”

“Yeah, well,” Beca rubs the back of her neck. “Don’t thank me until you’ve tried the sandwiches.”

Chloe merely smiles at her sweetly. “I’m sure they’re perfect.”

They settle down on the tablecloth, and Beca starts to load her plate. Except…

“I forgot plates,” she realizes, face warming. “And, uh, forks. And glasses. Um. Sorry,” she apologizes, feeling like a total idiot.

Chloe reaches out and places her hand on top of Beca’s. “Bec, it’s just me. It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong… with any of this.”

The way she says soothes Beca instantly and makes her think Chloe is referring to more than their lack of plates and utensils.

“Look,” Chloe says, popping open the champagne with practiced ease. Once the foam settles, she takes a sip directly from the bottle and passes it to Beca. “And everything else we can just… eat.”

Beca nods, grateful, and takes a sip of the champagne. Ugh. Maybe she’s the one who doesn’t like champagne.

They start on the sandwiches and fruit, alternating sips of champagne and the juice Beca brought; the wine lies forgotten.

“So… where are you applying to teach?” Beca asks after a few minutes. It’s easier to bring up when they’re both focused on eating.

Chloe pauses, picking at the crust of her sandwich absentmindedly. “Uh, well,” she starts, “the more I think about it, the more I’m leaning toward being a vet.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I want to apply for some animal medicine internships.”

“Dude, that’s so cool!” Beca says sincerely. “Like, really. I can totally see you doing that.”

The way Chloe smiles at her, full of surprised happiness, tells Beca she’d said the right thing. “Yeah, I’m applying a few places.”

Beca’s stomach squirms uncomfortably. “Where at, do you think?” she asks, hoping she sounds nonchalant but knowing she probably doesn’t.

“Um, New York, mainly. Their program is really good. Maybe a few others, uh, Nashville, Chicago, Santa Barbara. We’ll see.”

“Got it,” Beca says, her mind spinning.

Chloe looks at her strangely but doesn’t say anything. She finishes her sandwich, her eyes falling back to the checkered tablecloth underneath them. As Beca finishes her own food, she finds herself wishing she could read minds.

After a moment. Chloe clears her throat. “So, do you think we should mention this to the Bellas?”

Beca takes a sip of her juice, thankful for the subject change. “Well,” she says slowly, “I suppose… if we continue… we’ll have to?” she phrases it as a question, giving Chloe the option to back out.

Chloe smiles and says, “Oh, this is definitely going to continue.”

Beca grins back, happiness filling her chest. “Good. In that case, we’ll have to eventually. I just don’t want things to get…”

“Weird?” Chloe suggests when Beca trails off, and Beca nods, relieved Chloe had understood.

“I don’t think it’ll be weird,” Chloe muses. “It’s going to be like it was before, Bec, just with… more.”

At that, a pink tinge climbs up Chloe’s neck. Beca’s mouth drops open at the rare sight and the implication, even though it makes her stomach flutter nervously.

“More?! Miss Beale!” she teases in a dramatic voice. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“That depends,” Chloe purrs, leaning forward until her face is only inches from Beca’s. She glances down, then looks up through her eyelashes. “Is it working?”

Beca sputters, her brain short-circuiting. “I – you – it –”

She’s not sure if she’s fully ready for _more_.

Chloe winks at her playfully, pulling away. “More can be anything you want it to be,” she says. “We’ll go slow.”

Even though her tone is light, Beca knows she’s serious. Chloe’s holding back to give Beca the time she needs. It’s so thoughtful and caring that it makes Beca wonder how exactly she found such an amazing person.

A soft, golden glow ignites the air around them; Beca glances around and sees that the sun is starting to set. They have the perfect view of it from where they sit on top of the hill.

“Look,” she tells Chloe, pointing toward the horizon.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous,” Chloe sighs appreciatively, adjusting so she’s sitting at Beca’s side rather than facing her.

It’s cheesy. It’s so, so cheesy and corny and lame that it makes Beca want to die. And yet, she can’t help looking at Chloe, her face illuminated by the soft glow, the color of the sunset complementing her hair perfectly and making her eyes even brighter.

“Yeah,” Beca agrees absently, her eyes fixed on Chloe. “Gorgeous.”

The sunset is a spectacular one, pinks and golds and reds exploding across the sky in a wondrous display. Soft music still permeates the air around them, rising from the Bluetooth to cover them in a symphony of beats and overlays, created by Beca for Chloe. It’s pretty much perfect, and exactly how Beca wanted the first date to go.

She’s painfully aware of how close Chloe is sitting.

Slowly, and in a way that she hopes seems casual, Beca drops her right hand from her lap to rest on the cloth below them. Beside her, Chloe does the same with her left hand. Beca keeps her eyes locked forward onto the sunset, though she isn’t really seeing it anymore as she slowly, tentatively inches her hand further toward Chloe’s, inch by torturous inch. It helps that Chloe’s hand is doing the same.

Beca can feel it, in the instant before they touch; a warm current of electricity running between them, filling the gap between their hands with sparking energy. Then, with a final, barely-there nudge of fingers, Chloe’s pinky finger meets Beca’s, wrapping around it. Another small adjustment, and suddenly, Chloe’s hand is in hers, their fingers intertwined.

They’ve held hands before, but never like this. This makes Beca’s skin jump and twitch; this makes her whole arm feel like it’s burning, but in the best way.

This makes Beca want more.

“Do you want to lie down?” Chloe asks softly. It’s like she reads Beca’s mind.

Beca nods, and she extends her legs, scooting a little awkwardly. She doesn’t want to let go of Chloe’s hand, but she has to while they get comfortable. Chloe mimics her, until Beca sprawls on her side, facing the sunset, and Chloe’s body delicately fits itself against her back. Still, Chloe moves slowly; first, legs slide up behind Beca’s, then hips, and finally, what are unmistakably breasts press lightly into her upper back as Chloe relaxes behind her. Chloe’s arm comes to rest around her waist, her hand seeking out Beca’s, again intertwining their fingers. Beca leans back into her cautiously, making sure Chloe can still see at least most of the sunset.

They’ve hugged before, sure, and Chloe has hugged her from behind before, but never like this.

Pure, unfiltered contentment washes over Beca. It’s as close to bliss as she can remember ever feeling. The fact that simply being with Chloe like this, watching a sunset on a first date, makes her feel like _this_ is almost overwhelming.

“What are you thinking?” Chloe whispers against her shoulder.

“I’m thinking… that if this – if what we have – is supposed to be wrong… then why does this feel so right?”

Chloe squeezes her tighter and moves somehow even closer. “That’s because it is right,” she breathes into the back of Beca’s neck, her lips just barely brushing skin.

Beca hums and lets her eyes close. She could get used to this.

They don’t talk after that, preferring to watch the sun sink slowly, dipping below the horizon until all that’s left is a sliver of gold above the dark surface of the land. Lights flick on in the distance, and Beca knows that soon, the Atlanta light pollution will take over for the sun’s work. She burrows still further backward into Chloe, finding home in the soft, warm embrace.

She wonders how many different music production jobs there are in New York, and if the sunsets there are just as nice.


	12. Chapter 12 - Chloe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued support! Your comments and reviews mean the world to me!

On the car ride home from what was most definitely the best date of her life, all Chloe can think about it how easy it would be to let herself fall completely, totally, irreversibly in love with Beca Mitchell.

Well. More in love than she already is.

Their time together had been astoundingly perfect. It wasn’t because they’d happened to get lucky with weather and a spectacular sunset; it wasn’t because Beca had thought of everything (except plates and utensils); it wasn’t even because Chloe loves picnics. It was because it was with Beca.

As Beca drives them back home, stereo playing some artist Chloe hasn’t heard of, Chloe watches Beca’s profile, enraptured by the way her lips form the lyrics coming from the radio. Beca’s window is down just a crack and her hair blows in the breeze. It’s rapidly becoming darker outside, but in the glow of the dashboard and with the moonlight outside, Beca looks so beautiful that it makes Chloe’s chest ache.

It’s strange, knowing that she’s allowed to feel like this now. She’s allowed to think about Beca as more than a friend. She’s allowed to touch Beca again, to link their fingers together and have it actually mean more than friendship. She’s allowed to think about holding Beca, kissing her, and being in love with her.

It’s not something she felt she had any right to think about. Until today.

Even before the date, Chloe hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up. Beca had assured her she’s ready to date girls (Chloe still feels bad about saying “no” at first), but Chloe had been prepared for her to change her mind and call the whole thing off.

She’s never been so pleased to have been proven wrong. She could tell Beca was a little on edge at the beginning, nervous around other people and purposely taking her to a quiet area of the park, but the tension had melted away over time. When they’d left, Beca had held her hand all the way back to the car, not seeming to care about the potential of other people seeing them.

Chloe wants to kiss her. More than anything, she wants to kiss her. For years, she’s been dreaming and thinking about what Beca’s lips would taste like – at least until the guilt over those fantasies reappeared.

(If Chloe’s honest with herself, she wants much, much more than to just kiss Beca.)

Still, she wants to go at Beca’s pace. Beca’s comfort with everything they do is her absolute priority. So, she’ll wait. She’ll wait for as long as Beca needs. Even if that means they never do anything more than what they did tonight at the picnic, that’s okay.

Simply holding Beca like that had been bliss. When she held Beca, it was like she’d been holding the world.

Yeah. She’s already completely, totally, irreversibly in love.

Beca pulls into the Bella driveway and parks in Chloe’s usual spot alongside Ashley’s minivan. She rolls up her window, turns off the car, and dangles Chloe’s keys off the tip of her index finger.

“Thanks for letting me drive her to take you on a date,” Beca says with her signature crooked smile.

“Thanks for the date,” Chloe replies, plucking the keys from Beca.

“Anytime.”

“So… you’d want to do it again?”

“Definitely,” Beca answers instantly, then hesitates. “You want to?”

“Totes,” Chloe nods emphatically. “It can be my treat next time.”

Beca grins, looking pleased. “I’d like that.”

They smile at each other, not saying anything. Chloe knows this is the part of the date where people usually kiss, but in this case, she’s not sure what to do.

The same thought seems to have occurred to Beca, too, because her hand rises to rub at the back of her own neck awkwardly at the same time her eyes fall to Chloe’s lips. Chloe’s breath catches in her throat, but she doesn’t move, wanting Beca to dictate the next few minutes.

Which she does, but by clearing her throat and looking away. “Uh, I suppose,” Beca says, resting her hand on the door handle. “We should probably make sure no one’s died or anything in there.”

Hiding her disappointment, Chloe nods quickly and opens her own car door, not wanting Beca to feel any more awkward about the situation than she already seems to. Reaching into the backseat, she grabs the picnic basket and some of the many blankets (is that a flashlight? Beca really was extra prepared) to carry inside the house. On the driver’s side of the car, Beca grabs her own armful of picnic equipment and together, they haul it into the Bella house.

As soon as the front door swings open, Chloe’s nose is assaulted with a torrent of alcohol fumes; their house reeks like a seedy bar. Empty bottles cover the kitchen table, and pineapple, watermelon, and orange rinds fill the garbage can. Rainbow Pride flags have materialized and are strewn haphazardly along the walls, draped over the staircase handrail, and are wrapped around Jessica, Emily, and Flo as blankets for where they sleep on the couch.

“Oh… my… god,” Beca breathes as they walk through the front door. She looks around for a clear space to set down the picnic things but has to settle for nudging aside some bottles to clear a space on the table for it all. Chloe winces at the almost guaranteed stickiness of the table but does the same with the basket in her arms.

Now that they’re in the kitchen, Chloe can hear a pounding bass coming from deep within the house. By the way she can feel the vibrations in her feet, she guesses everyone else still partying must be in the basement.

Sure enough, seconds later, footsteps sound on the stairs and the door to the basement swings open, spewing forth Amy, several additional empty bottles, and the full volume of the throbbing music.

“Oh, hi, Bhloe!” Amy greets them enthusiastically. “Wanna join? There’s a party for the ghosts downstairs.”

“Amy, what the hell did you do to the house?” Beca asks, having to shout over the music.

“Uh. Ummmmmm.”

“You know what?” Beca cuts her off. “I don’t want to know.”

“Suit yourself,” Amy shrugs, setting the empty bottles down on the floor and pulling more vodka out of the kitchen cabinet. She winks theatrically at Chloe, then turns back to head downstairs.

“Mom and Dad are back!” Amy yells as she starts down the stairs, resulting in a chorus of mingled cheers and boos. The door slams behind her, instantly muffling the voices and music.

Beca rolls her eyes and looks at Chloe in exasperation.

“That seems fun,” Chloe can’t resist teasing, making Beca narrow her eyes.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says. “But, uh, do you want to come upstairs? Looks like we’ll have my room to ourselves.”

Chloe pauses at the suggestion. “Uh –”

Beca’s eyes widen in panic. “Oh!” she says, “no, not – I meant for – like Netflix or something, not – no.”

Chloe takes pity on her and cracks a smile. “It’s okay, don’t freak! I knew what you meant,” she assures, trying not to laugh.

Beca glares at her. “Oh my god, don’t do that to me,” she huffs. “I changed my mind. Uninvited.”

“Oh, but –” Chloe puts on her best pout, jutting out her lower lip and making her eyes huge. She knows Beca can never resist when she does that.

They have a staring contest: Chloe, unblinking, trying to look as miserable as possible while Beca stands there, hands firmly on her hips and attempting to hold a poker face. Chloe makes her eyes even wider, pushes her lip out further, and –

“Fine,” Beca grumbles. “Come on, then.”

Chloe grins happily and reaches to intertwine their fingers, a spark traveling up her spine when Beca’s thumb traces over the back of her hand. They go up the stairs together – if a little awkwardly, from the hand-holding – and arrive at Beca’s door. Beca opens it, gesturing Chloe ahead of her grandly, and Chloe takes the last few steps up and into the attic bedroom, hearing Beca close the door and follow.

Up here, they can’t hear any sounds of the rave happening in their basement. Chloe glances around, smiling a little at the mess of laptop and mixing equipment strewn across Beca’s desk. Beca’s side of the room is neater than Amy’s, but not by a lot, with jeans and Converse littering the floor. The bed is made, though, and when Chloe sits on the edge of it, she can smell the light floral scent of Beca’s perfume.

“So, what do you want to watch?” she asks when Beca grabs her laptop from the desk.

“Uh, up to you,” Beca says, opening up the laptop and booting it up with a whir as she sits beside Chloe on the bed.

“Uh, maybe…” Chloe thinks, then asks, “Have you seen _Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt_ yet?”

“Nope,” Beca replies, settling back against her pillow, propped up against the headboard. “Comedy?”

“Yeah,” Chloe replies, joining her against the headboard so their legs stretch out over Beca’s comforter. “I think you’ll like it.”

“I’ll trust you,” Beca grins at her sideways, then starts the show.

Chloe tries to focus on the episode, but she’s already seen it so she knows what’s going to happen, and her attention span isn’t helped at all by the way that – because Beca’s bed is kind of small – Beca’s side is pressed against hers. And, really, it would be way more comfortable if she could put her arm over Beca’s shoulders, but she’s not sure they’re there yet even though she can feel every breath Beca takes against her side.

And yet. Despite the sharp awareness of Beca’s proximity, Chloe is struck by how normal this feels. It could be any other night with Beca, but now with the barest electric undercurrent running between them. Apart from that, it’s simply her and Beca, Beca and her, like always.

With one tiny difference.

When Chloe looks sideways, she meets the determined deep blue of Beca’s eyes.

“I could hear you thinking,” Beca whispers.

Chloe doesn’t – can’t – reply. Beca is so close that all it would take is just a fraction of movement from both of them. A lean, a tilt, and they’d be there, kissing.

Something settles deep within her chest.

“Chlo…”

Everything else in the world disappears. Every past worry, fear, and insecurity melts into nothing as Chloe looks at Beca and Beca looks at Chloe. The bedroom fades away around them, until even the laptop cradled on Beca’s legs, still playing the episode, ceases to exist.

Beca’s eyes flick down to her lips, and stay there.

Chloe’s eyes drop, too.

Beca’s tongue pokes out, just briefly, to soften her own lips.

Chloe’s hands twitch.

She’s not sure who leans forward first. It doesn’t really matter, she supposes. All that matters is that they’re getting closer and closer, and now she can feel Beca’s breath ghosting over her face, and they’re so, so close to touching.

Chloe closes her eyes.

_Bang!_

The door to the bedroom is flung open with enough force to shake the walls. Beca jerks back so violently it looks like she’s received an electric shock; she almost falls off the bed, but Chloe catches her arm at the same time Beca grabs her laptop protectively, and crisis is averted.

Footsteps on the stairs and a loud, drunken, “Beca, have you seen my orange boots? I have to teach Legacy something,” announces Amy’s arrival into the room, as if the thundering of the door opening hadn’t.

“Um, no, I –” Beca’s flustered, her face pink, her eyes darting wildly around the room without once landing on Chloe.

_Maybe that’s okay_ , Chloe thinks. She wouldn’t want Beca to see the disappointment that’s probably clear in her eyes.

Amy makes her way fully into the room, eyes searching the floor, not even looking over at Beca’s side of the room. Hastily, Beca and Chloe reposition themselves so they’re sitting several inches apart on the bed, laptop between them, and legs dangling over the sides.

_Nope, nothing to see here_ , Chloe thinks wildly as she does her best to rearrange her expression to one of Platonic Friendship rather than mild sexual frustration.

“Hm, I really need – oh! There they are!” Amy crows in triumph, reaching behind her bed to extract the pair of violently orange knee-high boots Chloe has only ever seen her wear at the disco-themed bar downtown.

“Great,” Beca deadpans. “I’m glad you found them.”

Amy glances over at the tone, her expression clearing when her eyes focus on Chloe.

“Oh, hi, Chloe, didn’t see you in here,” Amy says, then fixes them with a serious stare. “You two lovebirds stay off my bed, yeah?”

“Hi, Amy,” Chloe greets her over the sound of Beca’s groan.

“Listen, Beca,” Amy continues, “you remember the time you bet you could twerk better than me?”

“Uh –”

“You were drunk,” Amy reminds her bluntly.  “Well, now’s the time to prove it. Come on, Short Stuff, there’s no getting out of this one.”

Beca looks to Chloe desperately, and Chloe knows she shouldn’t find this funny – they’d just been interrupted before what could have been the best moment of her life – but the whole thing is so completely ridiculous that she can’t stop her lips from twitching in amusement.

“It’s okay,” she assures Beca, “I should call my parents, anyway. It’s been a while.” Besides, if she’s lucky, someone (probably Stacie) will obtain video evidence of Amy and Beca twerking for her to laugh at later.

On the other side of the room, Amy has resumed digging behind her bed, possibly in search of other neon clothing.

“Oh, right,” Beca says quietly, looking down at her laptop between them. “Are you going to tell your parents about…” she trails off and looks up, gesturing between them.

“I – if that’s okay with you?” Chloe asks uncertainty. It hadn’t occurred to her to _not_ tell her parents about going on the date. “I mean, they – well, my mom – already kind of knows… how I feel about you?”

Beca blinks, her eyebrows raising. “She does?”

“Don’t sound so amazed,” Chloe teases, knocking her shoulder into Beca. “Yeah, I told her about it. It’s been... a while,” she smiles, trying to soften it.

“And… she – and your dad – they’re okay with it? With us?”

Chloe’s heart stutters over the word “us,” but she tries to play it cool.

“They’re more than okay with us,” she replies sincerely. “They love you, and they want me to be happy. And,” Chloe leans forward, a thrill shooting down her spine when Beca’s eyes again drop to her lips. “They know you make me happy.”

She pulls back to a more appropriate distance for having Amy in the room, and watches Beca’s expression turn pleased.

Beca looks pleased, if a little embarrassed. “Well,” she huffs. “I’m only sorry it took this long.”

“Oh, no, Bec, no! I didn’t mean –” Chloe frowns at the change in mood. With a glance at Amy (who has reemerged from behind the bed and is making for the stairs), she says softly, “I wouldn’t change a thing. Really. It’s okay. Don’t ever feel bad about it.”

Beca searches her face almost cautiously. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Beca’s expression relaxes gradually, a small smile eventually breaking out to erase the tension. Chloe breathes easier, relieved the awkwardness had passed. She can’t stop herself from glancing again at Beca’s lips.

Then, Amy causes a slight distraction by falling down the stairs noisily.

“ _Amy!_ ” Beca and Chloe shriek simultaneously, shooting up from the bed to see if she’s okay.

Luckily, the flight of stairs into the bedroom is very short; before either of them can get down to her, Amy pops up holding her orange boots and what appear to be Moon Shoes.

“Crushed it,” she says proudly.

“Oh my god,” Beca stares. “What in the actual _hell_ –”

“That’s the spirit!” Amy interrupts. “Let’s go, Twerk Girl!”

And with that, she turns and heads to the second-floor landing. Beca turns to Chloe in exasperated amazement, but Chloe can tell she’s trying to hold back a laugh.

“Your drunken bet is calling you,” Chloe teases, tucking an errant strand of Beca’s hair behind her ear before starting down the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I – okay. Thanks for the date!” Beca calls quietly as Chloe makes her way down the stairs.

Chloe waves over her shoulder and smiles, already thinking of how excited her mom is going to be when she hears the news.

*******************

_“Jesse! Where is Beca? I thought she was gonna be with you tonight?”_

_She hates speaking to him. She really, truly does. He’s so annoying, with his huge, dumb puppy eyes and overeager smile. She hates that Beca chose that over her, and hates that every time she sees him, she’s reminded anew that he gets to hold Beca, gets to kiss and touch her._

_He gets to sleep with her._

_She hates speaking to him because she’s forced to acknowledge that he’s real and present and Beca chose him instead of her._

_She knows (or at least, imagines) that he can tell. She’s seen the way he watches her when she’s with Beca, his eyes full of mistrust. She always touches Beca more then, pulls her closer, does anything she can to keep Beca’s attention on her instead of on the idiot she’s dating._

_In her darkest moments, she despises Beca for it, but then that fades quickly. She could never stay angry at Beca._

_“I thought she was with you?” Jesse asks, confused._

_Christ, he doesn’t even know where his girlfriend is, or who she’s with. God, she’d love for Beca to cheat on him, just once, so he knows what it feels like to be second place in Beca’s heart. But Beca would never, and in the next instant, Chloe is disgusted with herself for thinking like that, and for hoping for their relationship to be torn apart in such a way._

_God, she’s the worst best friend._

_“I thought she was with you?” Chloe asks, equally confused._

_The worst part about it is that she sees aspects of herself in Jesse. They’re so similar. It’s annoying, and it makes her cringe, but Chloe knows that in a lot of ways, she is just like him. Not in appearance, but in personality: bubbly, enthusiastic, lover of a cappella, and hopelessly in love with Beca Mitchell._

_There are really only two differences between them._

_One: Jesse tries to change Beca, while Chloe sees she’s perfect as is._

_Two: Jesse gets to date Beca, while Chloe does not._

_They’re more similar than they are different, but Beca could only choose one of them._

_Chloe lost._

*******************

The phone rings three times before her mom answers slightly breathlessly. “Hello? Hi, sweetie, how’s it going?”

“Uh – were you running?”

“What? Oh, no, actually, your father wanted to try some of that – Eric, what was it?” Cheryl calls into the house.

“Pilates yoga!” Chloe’s dad’s voice calls clearly from the background.

“Pilates yoga,” Cheryl repeats.

“Right,” Chloe replies, smiling at the ceiling from where she sprawls on her bed.

“Oh, while I’m thinking of it,” Cheryl says abruptly, “we should set up a time to come get some of your things from the house.”

“My things? We don’t move out until August.”

“I know that, but it’ll be better to take some small stuff now and save room in the car later.”

“Okay,” Chloe agrees, unease at the looming deadline churning her insides.

“Um, so, how’ve you been?” Cheryl changes the subject, maybe sensing the shift in mood. “I saw the news this morning. It’s fantastic!”

It takes Chloe a second; the passage of the marriage equality law seems like years ago rather than hours.

“Oh, yeah, thanks!” she says happily, a fresh wave of excitement tingling through her chest at the memory. “It’s pretty cool.”

By the pause that follows, Chloe can tell that her mom expects her to say more about it, but Chloe doesn’t; she really just wants to talk about Beca.

“You okay, honey?” Cheryl asks shrewdly. “Normally, you’d be over the moon over something like this.”

Chloe draws her lower lip between her teeth, trying to contain her excitement enough to get the story out. She rolls over to her stomach, resting on her elbows.

“More than okay, Mom. It’s… the best thing happened!”

“What?”

“Beca asked me on a date!”

Chloe holds her breath, waiting for her mom to say something, like maybe congratulate her or start asking a million questions. Instead, she’s met with silence.

Then more silence.

Until –

The volume and pitch of the noise coming from her phone is unprecedented. It makes Chloe jerk it away from her ear, trying desperately to protect herself from hearing loss brought on by her mother’s deafening squeal of excitement.

“She did?! Oh my god! Chloe, tell me everything right now! When? How? What are you going to do on this date? Are you sure it’s a date? I know you said she wasn’t straight anymore, but are you sure? I don’t want to pry but –”

“Woah, Mom, slow down for a sec!” Chloe cuts her off with a laugh. “Hang on!”

On the other end, Cheryl chuckles and takes a quick breath. “Sorry, but I’m really excited for you! Eric, come here! Chloe, honey, just wait for your dad, he’ll want to hear, too.”

Chloe rolls her eyes playfully, waiting until she hears her dad’s voice. There’s movement on the line, and Cheryl’s voice calls back, sounding further away.

“You’re on speaker! So, you wanna tell us about it?”

With a wide smile, Chloe tells her parents about going to the gay bar (leaving out the girls who’d hit on Beca), about Beca asking her on a date once they were outside, how she’d originally said no (“Oh, honey…” Cheryl sighs), but then had said yes after listening to what Beca had to say. And, yes, she assures her mom, Beca is definitely something other than straight and wants to date women.

“Okay, so when will this date be?” Eric asks once Chloe has explained everything.

“Well, it already… kind of... happened?” Chloe replies, knowing her parents are going to want more or less a play-by-play of the picnic.

“Why am I the last to know these things?!” Cheryl groans. “Spill!”

Clearing her throat, Chloe launches into another explanation, this time giving out the details on the sort of spur-of-the-moment picnic, the food, missing plates, and the sunset. She skirts over what it had felt like to hold Beca in her arms, because she wants that memory to be hers, and hers alone.

“... and then, we went back home and watched some Netflix in her room together.”

“That sounds like a wonderful date, honey. Very you.”

Yeah,” Chloe sighs happily. “She gets me.”

Eric snorts. “Even if she forgot the plates.”

“Yeah, well. That part is very Beca.”

“Careful, there. You’re sounding pretty smitten,” Cheryl warns.

“What are you, a hundred years old?” Chloe laughs, trying to deflect. If her mom knew exactly how “smitten” she is after just one date, their talk would quickly take a more serious turn.

“I’m just saying, sweetie. It’s the early stages. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“I know. But Beca is – always has been – different. You know that. I… it would be so easy to just…”

Chloe stops her rambling, wincing at giving herself away.

“It sounds like it,” her mom says. “But, hon, keep in mind that Beca’s still a little new to this. And... I know we always supported you and never had to really talk about liking girls, but from what you’ve told me, I don’t think Beca had quite that same experience growing up.”

Cheryl pauses, as if collecting her thoughts, then continues, “If she hasn’t told her family yet, well, that’s something you two are going to have to talk about sooner or later, so… be prepared for that.”

“And other challenges,” Eric adds.

Chloe doesn’t know quite what to say to that. It catches her off guard; she hasn’t thought about that yet, too focused on how perfect their evening had been.

“Anyway. Enough of that,” Cheryl says, tone lightening. “The real question is… what are you going to do for the next date?”

Chloe smiles broadly into the phone, shoving her worries about Beca’s family away. That’s a different problem for a different day.

“I already have a plan…”

 


	13. Chapter 13 - Chloe

“Chlo? Where are we going?”

“Shh.”

“Not one hint?”

“Shh.”

“Is it going to be horrible?”

“Do you want me to tape your mouth shut?”

“Can you do that without taking the hood off?”

Chloe takes her eyes off the road momentarily to look to her right, where Beca sits buckled into the passenger seat with a Hood Night hood over her head.

“If you keep complaining, I can always get my handcuffs,” she grins, expecting Beca to dissolve into a mess of awkward sputtering.

Instead, Beca shoots back, “Save those for later.”

The speed of the response is shocking and more than a little arousing. It makes Chloe’s grip on the wheel tighten and her foot press more firmly against the accelerator, sending her car zooming forward through traffic and closer to their date destination.

Chloe supposes she should have known better than to goad Beca; over the past week, Beca has become more comfortable with making quips like that. Chloe’s normally the flirty one, but having Beca flirt back has been enthralling.

It’s been a week since their first date. They haven’t kissed. They haven’t told the Bellas, they haven’t had a lot of alone time, they haven’t labeled their relationship, and they haven’t _kissed_.

To compensate (because sometimes Chloe feels like she’s going to die if she doesn’t touch Beca), she might brush by Beca closer than strictly necessary so their bodies can touch. Or her hand will find Beca’s thigh under the table at dinner and rest there. Or Beca’s head will fit itself against her shoulder while they cuddle under a blanket at Bella Movie Night. They’ve done that before, but now with the added bonus of linking their hands under the blanket.

Touching Beca is intoxicating. She needs it like she needs air to breathe.

Chloe pulls into the parking lot of their date destination, biting her lip to keep herself from squealing in excitement. It’s somewhere Beca never would have gone by herself, and she hopes Beca won’t totally hate her for this, but she knows that they’ll have fun. Once Beca takes a second to process, anyway.

She finds a parking spot between an SUV and a smaller car, then pats Beca on the knee.

“Don’t take off the hood yet,” she warns.

“But –”

“Let me help you out and we’ll take it off outside so you can get the full effect.”

“Oh, joy,” Beca deadpans, but Chloe knows she’s just putting on a show. By the way Beca’s right knee bounces, she can tell Beca’s excited, too.

With a final smile at Beca, even though she can’t see it through the hood, Chloe jumps out of the driver’s side and hurries around to Beca’s passenger door. She takes a quick look around before opening the door – it would put a bit of a damper on their date if some good Samaritan were to call the police on her for hauling around a person with a hood on their head. After making sure they’re relatively alone, Chloe opens Beca’s door and takes her right hand.

“Okay, just climb out,” Chloe says. “I’ll make sure you don’t trip.”

Beca grumbles but unbuckles her seat belt and allows Chloe to guide her slowly out of the car. Chloe is sure to keep her hand protectively between Beca’s hooded head and the frame of the car – Beca getting a concussion would also put a damper on the date.

Once Beca is completely out of the car, Chloe steers her by the shoulders so that she’s facing the building they’re parked in front of.

“Ready?” she asks.

“This is a kidnapping,” Beca complains, but Chloe can hear curiosity in her tone.

“A sexy date-kidnapping,” replies Chloe, grinning when Beca’s shoulder muscles tense under her hands. “Here we go!”

Smoothly, Chloe lifts the hood from Beca’s head and moves so she can see her face. She watches Beca blink, first at the brightness of the day, then in confusion as she registers the letters on the side of the building, proclaiming Ricky’s Roller Rink and Arcade. A symphony of emotions cross Beca’s face: first recognition, then surprise, then horror, which finally eases into exasperation.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Chloe. No way.”

“Yes!”

“I’ll die!”

“I’ll catch you,” Chloe promises, crossing her heart.

“I’ve done this, like. Twice,” Beca groans.

“I know. I’ll hold your hand.”

Beca rolls her eyes, and Chloe already knows she’s won. “I took you on a nice, stable grounded picnic, and you’re doing this to me? Making me rollerblade?”

“Well…” Chloe hedges, taking mercy on Beca. “It’s really more the pizza and arcade that go with the rollerblading. We’ll only do that part if you want to.”

“Oh!” Beca stops, surprised. She seems to think for a second before shrugging, if reluctantly. “Well. In that case, I guess it’s fine. For the pizza.”

“Aca- _awesome_ ,” Chloe smiles, then laughs when Beca rolls her eyes.

She reaches down to link their hands together and, pretending she doesn’t notice Beca’s furtive glance around the lot, leads them inside the building.

They’re greeted at the welcome desk inside the front door by a teenage boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, dressed in the arcade’s brightly-colored polo and wearing a neon orange hat with the name of the rink splashed across the front of it in black text. He has braces and a smattering of acne across his cheeks, but that doesn’t stop him from grinning at them enthusiastically when they walk in.

“Welcome to Ricky’s!” he greets. “What kind of ticket would you like?”

“Um,” Chloe replies, scanning the display behind him. “Let’s go with the couple’s special. That includes laser tag, right?”

Beca’s hand tightens around her own, but the teenager doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Yep, the couple’s special comes with laser tag, a pizza and drinks, five arcade games, and a set of rollerblades. Is that all?”

“Sounds perfect,” Chloe smiles, digging in her purse for her wallet.

“I can –”

“I’ve got this, babe,” Chloe cuts off Beca’s attempt to chip in on the tickets. This is her treat.

“Uh – thanks,” Beca replies, looking at her a little strangely.

Chloe pays for their arcade passes, then they turn to survey the building. It’s massive, set up in a sprawling design that probably only makes sense to the preteens who frequent it on the weekends. The roller rink is on the far side, taking up almost the entire right half of the building. A dining area with a pizza stand and a pop bar separate the rink from the scores of arcade games placed haphazardly in what might be a rectangular pattern. Beyond that, a doorway with a sign proclaiming “Laser Tag” set up above it seems to branch away from the main arcade area. Thankfully, for a Thursday afternoon, the place is relatively empty, with only a few older-looking teenagers running around.

“So,” Chloe breathes, suddenly nervous. “Is this an acceptable second date?”

Beca looks at her, her expression giving nothing away. “Well…” she starts seriously, before her face splits into a wide grin. “Only if you’re ready to have your ass kicked at air hockey!”

“In your dreams,” Chloe scoffs, and then they’re off.

* * *

Chloe knows Beca is a competitive person – you don’t co-lead a world-renowned a cappella group with someone and not realize how competitive they are – but she had no idea that competitive spirit bled over into something as simple as arcade games. She soon learns, though.

Because they have five arcade games to play with their tickets, they first decide on air hockey, foosball, Skee-Ball, and Dance Dance Revolution; Chloe is horrible at foosball, but wins the game of Skee-Ball, and they tie at Dance Dance Revolution. That’s when, instead of choosing a game they haven’t played yet, Beca insists on a second round of air hockey because she lost the first time.

“Alright,” she says seriously, cracking her knuckles and rolling out her shoulders while Chloe tries not to giggle at her. “This game is it. This is everything. Whoever wins this becomes Grandmaster Champion of the Universe.”

“Oh?” Chloe asks, arching an eyebrow. “I noticed that rule didn’t apply when you missed all but two cups during Skee-Ball.”

“Didn’t count then,” Beca insists with as much dignity as she can muster. “This is, like, the tie breaker. Of everything.”

“Okay,” Chloe says, deciding not to point out that even if Beca wins this game, they’re still technically tied evenly in arcade game wins.

Beca waggles her eyebrows grandly and, with all the seasoned confidence of an air hockey pro, drops the puck onto the table and nearly knocks it into her own goal.

“I meant to do that,” she insists when Chloe laughs. “Throw you off guard.”

“Mmm.”

Once Beca does successfully start the game, she plays with an intensity that Chloe has only seen her display on stage of their bigger performances. Her eyes are zeroed in on the puck, tracking its every movement, and she moves her paddle with grace and agility, concentrating so hard on the game that Chloe doesn’t think she’s even aware of the way the tip of her tongue pokes out from her mouth.

It’s kind of hot.

That is, until Beca’s fingers, dangling over the edge of the wall and into the “rink” area, are smashed by a poorly-aimed puck from Chloe.

“Fuck! Ouch, shit, dammit –”

“Are you okay?!” Chloe exclaims, running around the table to get to her. “Here, let me see –”

She pulls Beca’s hand into both of her own, examining it for damage, just in time to register the telltale _clunk_ of the puck dropping into her unattended goal.

She looks up from Beca’s (red and bruised-looking) fingers to see a supremely smug look on Beca’s face.

“Shouldn’t have let your guard down,” Beca grins, nodding at the score. She’d won with the last goal.

Chloe huffs in mock annoyance; if Beca can still get a goal with her uninjured hand and brag about it, she’s not badly hurt.

“Cheap move!” Chloe protests. “You distracted me!”

“You’re the one who smashed my fingers!”

“Shouldn’t have dangled them over the edge like that,” Chloe says, then follows with, “I’m starting to care more and more about your fingers lately.”

The shock and understanding that flash across Beca’s face make losing the game totally worth it. With a wink, Chloe leans in and presses her lips against the more bruised-looking fingers on Beca’s right hand.

“Yeah, well,” Beca huffs, apparently recovering. “That helps.”

“I’m glad,” Chloe grins. “So, Grandmaster Champion of the Universe, you wanna get some pizza?”

As if on cue, Beca’s stomach rumbles loudly.

“Great,” Chloe says, taking that as an answer. “Let’s go order.”

They walk over to the dining area and put in the order for a cheese pizza, and while that’s cooking, Chloe manages to talk Beca into trying a couple laps of rollerblading.

The rink is wide open, apart from a couple of teenagers still zooming around it. Chloe leads Beca to the side of the rink, where they pick out their skates. Chloe tries not to laugh when Beca has to hunt for a size small enough to suit her.

When they have the skates in hand, they go to the little outcropping in the blading area and strap them on. Once they’re both ready, they sit, Chloe waiting for the go-ahead from Beca that doesn’t seem like it’s going to come. Beca’s not saying much, which raises a red flag in Chloe’s mind.

“Hey,” she says, resting her hand over Beca’s for a second. “We don’t have to, if you really don’t want to.”

“Hmpf,” Beca grumbles. “First you smash my hand, now you’re gonna strap wheels to my feet and expect me not to die.”

“I won’t let you fall. I promise,” Chloe reassures her quietly.

Beca’s expression softens. “I know you won’t,” she says. “I trust you.”

Chloe isn’t quite prepared for the warmth that washes over her at that simple phrase. It shouldn’t trigger that much emotion, maybe, but the way Beca says it and the way she looks at her makes Chloe think that when Beca said it, she meant a different three-word phrase.

“Okay, right,” Chloe says, trying to shake that from her mind. “Let’s, uh, try it. We’ll go slow.”

And they do go slow. Beca’s left hand never leaves Chloe’s right as they half-skate, half-wobble around the rink two, three, four times, until Beca’s movements smoothen and she becomes more confident with every stroke. By the fifth lap, though, the man working the pizza stand is waving them down, and Beca looks too relieved at the idea of getting the skates off her feet for Chloe to be able to justify continuing.

They wrap up their final lap, find that same outcropping in the rink, and pull the skates off their feet in favor of their regular shoes before heading over to collect their pizza. Beca grabs them a table, across the dining area from a group of four teenage girls, and they sit to eat.

“See?” Chloe can’t resist asking. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Beca shrugs, pizza in hand. “It could have been worse. Thanks for not letting me fall,” she adds more sincerely.

“Of course,” Chloe answers. “We can’t have any more injuries.”

Beca flexes her hand, checking it for damage. “I think I’ll survive,” she grins, then takes another bite of pizza.

Chloe’s just about to reach for her third slice when one of the teenagers from the larger group across the room arrives at their table.

“Uh, hi,” the girl says a little awkwardly. “It’s my friend’s birthday, and we wanted to play laser tag, but we’re two players short. Would you like to…” she trails off, gesturing toward the laser tag area.

Chloe looks beyond the girl at the three others sitting at the table, all watching them carefully. She waves in their general direction, not sure which is the one with the birthday, before checking with Beca.

“I’m okay with that if you are?” she asks. “We have the ticket for it, anyway.”

Beca glances toward the girls, too, then looks down at the pizza.

“After you’re done eating,” the girl says in a rush, turning a little pink. “You don’t have to –”

“No, it’s okay,” Beca interrupts. “We’ll do it on one condition.”

The girl nods enthusiastically and Chloe waits, not sure what Beca’s going to say.

“Take a picture of us?” Beca asks, extending her phone to the girl, whose eyes widen.

“Sure!” she agrees enthusiastically. “Oh, I’m the best with Instagram and finding filters, I’ll make you two look so good…”

She rambles on, but Chloe’s stopped listening. She’s too focused on Beca moving her chair closer to her, pressing into her side. When Beca wraps an arm around her waist, Chloe sinks into it so naturally that it’s like they’ve been doing this for years rather than barely a week. Beca’s hair tickles her cheek, but Chloe refuses to pull away. She just smiles for the camera, already knowing she’s going to make Beca send that to her so she can make it her new lock screen.

The girl takes multiple pictures from multiple angles, all the while assuring them they look “super cute,” and hands Beca back her phone with a smile.

“Thanks,” Beca says, scrolling through the pictures quickly to check them.

Looking over her shoulder, Chloe has to agree with the girl; they look good together.

“So…” the girl prompts, and Chloe stands to get to-go boxes for their pizza. They could have finished the last two slices, but it’s pretty obvious the girls at the table are impatient.

She and Beca join them, make introductions, and file past the arcade games to get to the laser tag area. There, another teenage employee explains the rules and splits them into teams: two of the girls plus Beca on the Blue team, and the other two plus Chloe on the Red team.

“You’re going down, Beale,” Beca hisses under her breath as the clock times down to start.

“Nope,” is all Chloe says, knowing it’ll only make Beca even more competitive. Sure enough, Beca huffs a laugh and starts bouncing in place, full of energy.

The buzzer goes off and Chloe steps inside the dark maze, blinking so her eyes adjust to the blacklight filling the room; she glances down at herself, the whites in her clothing and shoelaces glowing in the semidarkness. It’s confusing, at first; all she can do is keep moving, hearing the five other people with her shuffling along behind the maze walls. At one point, one of the girls on her team flies past in front of her, and Chloe has to stop the knee-jerk reaction to aim and fire at her own teammate.

But then, rounding a corner, she sees a one of the girls on the Blue team crouched and peering around a wall, her back to Chloe. Grinning to herself, Chloe raises her laser gun and aims. Before she can fire, though, something latches onto the back of her vest and tugs, and she’s sent careening backward with an inelegant squawk of surprise.

“Shh!” Beca laughs, her teeth bright in the black light as she pulls Chloe into a corner of the maze. “You’re gonna get their attention!”

“Is this a plot?” Chloe asks suspiciously. “Are you trying to make my team lose?”

Beca grins and shakes her head, looping her arms around Chloe’s waist to pull her closer. “Nah. I just wanted to say hi and didn’t think it was fair to shoot from behind... like you were about to do.”

“Yeah, I’m not above that,” Chloe admits casually, heart fluttering at the proximity to Beca.

“Clearly,” Beca agrees, then speaks even more softly. “Those photos of us are really nice.”

“They are,” Chloe says, hands landing on Beca’s hips. The thought of where this might be going makes her feel like she needs to steady herself.

“And, earlier,” Beca continues, whispering now, their faces only inches apart. “I liked when you called me ‘babe.’”

“When?”

“At the desk. When we came in.”

“I didn’t even notice,” Chloe breathes honestly, her eyes dropping to Beca’s slightly parted lips.

“I liked it.”

Beca’s leaning in then, until she’s so close that Chloe’s not sure if the pounding pulse she hears is her own or Beca’s. Chloe closes her eyes, shivering when she feels Beca’s breath ghosting over her lips. Their noses nudge together, sending a thrill through Chloe’s body. All it would take is one final tilt in from either of them, and the entire world would shift.

With a shaky breath that Chloe can both hear and feel, Beca closes the distance.

Beca’s lips are soft and warm against hers. They’re both still, lips just touching, until Chloe pulls back to lightly rest her forehead against Beca’s.

“Bec…”

Chloe’s not sure who leans forward this time, but then they’re kissing again and everything else is wiped from her mind. Beca’s lips grow more direct and she changes the angle gently, and Chloe can hardly believe that this is _Beca_ , finally kissing her, but when she reaches forward to rest her hands on Beca’s waist, the solid presence reassures her until she’s giving in completely. Chloe tilts her head more into it, parting her lips to make the kiss softer, warmer, and drawn-out, nestling Beca’s bottom lip between hers.

A sound leaves Beca then, just a little hum in the back of her throat, not quite a whimper but almost, and it makes Chloe’s hands tighten on Beca’s waist. She feels Beca’s hands trace up her arms, dancing over her collarbones to rest lightly on either side of her neck. Leaving tingling, twitching skin in its path, Beca’s left thumb traces under her jaw until Chloe’s certain Beca can feel the fluttering of her pulse.

Beca’s lips turn more insistent, pressing even closer. One of Beca’s hands slides into Chloe’s hair, cradling the back of her head. This time, Chloe’s the one to make a noise, a breathy gasp that makes Beca chuckle against her lips. Chloe’s hands slide around Beca’s hips, tracing up her lower back until they encounter the laser tag vest.

Chloe’s not sure how long they kiss. A few seconds, maybe a minute at most, but when the kiss reaches its natural end and she pulls away, her head is spinning and she can’t stop smiling. Beca’s smiling right back, the flush on her cheeks visible even in the semidarkness.

Chloe steps away carefully, her hands dropping from Beca’s sides. Her lips tingle where Beca had kissed them, and she wants more than anything to continue it, but they are still technically in public with a group of teenagers running around somewhere in the laser tag maze.

She feels like she should say something, but doesn’t know what.

That’s when Beca, grinning cheekily, lifts her laser gun and shoots Chloe point-blank, making her vest buzz and light up.

“Gotcha.”

*******************

_“Wait, why’d you swipe no on him, he was cute!” Stacie protests, peering over Chloe’s shoulder._

_“Eh, not my type,” Chloe dismisses, scrolling through some brunette’s profile next._

_“Cute isn’t your type?” Stacie asks sarcastically._

_“Guess not,” Chloe snaps back. She’s tired of this stupid app. She swipes no again._

_“Ooh, her!” This time, Stacie practically pounces on Chloe to get her to swipe yes on an admittedly very attractive blonde woman._

_Chloe swipes no and closes the app. “Look, this is stupid. I’m really not into anyone on here.”_

_“How?” Stacie asks with wide eyes. “Chloe, you’ve been single for as long as I’ve known you. That’s… like three years. That’s insane.”_

_“I date,” Chloe replies defensively, crossing her arms._

_“Okay, you go on dates. That’s different from dating.”_

_“I – there’s no one I’ve liked.”_

_That’s only partially true. Yes, she hasn’t really clicked with anyone, but that has nothing to do with their own shortcomings and everything to do with the fact that they aren’t Beca._

_“No one?”_

_“Nope,” Chloe replies, standing from the couch. “Listen, I’m pretty tired, Stace, I’m gonna head up to bed.”_

_No matter how hard she tries, no matter how many dates she forces herself to go on, Chloe can’t shake her feelings for Beca in favor of a stranger. It’s just not going to happen._

_“But –”_

_“Good night!” she interrupts, heading for the stairs and hearing a soft, “Night,” thrown at her retreating back._

_She deletes the app a few days later, despite the large number of unread messages in her inbox from both guys and girls. It doesn’t matter how many of them she could have tried to date; no stranger can replace the increasingly powerful feelings she has for Beca._

*******************

“Bye! Happy birthday!” Beca calls, waving after the group of teenage girls. Chloe smiles goodbye at them, though she’s still not entirely sure which of the girls’ birthdays it is. She carries their leftover pizza in her right hand, her left intertwined with Beca’s. Like the boy at the welcome stand, the girls didn’t give them a second glance for holding hands and acting like a couple.

After the girls are gone, Beca looks at her, eyes alight. “Blue team kicked your team’s ass.”

Chloe grins back and replies, “Only because you distracted me.”

“Excuses.”

Chloe bumps her shoulder into Beca’s, both laughing as they make their way to Chloe’s car. Chloe feels like she’s glowing from the inside out; their second date had been just as wonderful as their first, perhaps even more so, with the kiss.

“Beca! Chloe!”

Chloe stops dead in her tracks, dropping Beca’s hand instantly at the familiar voice. A dense dread settling deep in her stomach, she turns in time to see Beca’s dad, Warren, and his wife Sheila climbing out of their car in the row adjacent to where she and Beca are parked. They’re both smiling, not looking at her with anger or suspicion, so they must not have seen her and Beca holding hands.

“Shit, fuck –” Beca swears softly beside her, then, more loudly, “Dad! What are you guys doing here?”

Chloe winces; she hopes the panic in Beca’s voice is only obvious to her.

Warren and Sheila walk over, weaving between a few parked cars to draw closer to them. Beca shifts her weight, putting distance between her and Chloe; Chloe hears the scuff of pebbles under her feet, acutely aware of every inch newly separating them.

“Don’t sound so pleased to see us,” Warren says with a smile when they’re near enough. “We’re here for a Barden faculty event.”

“At a roller rink?”

“Well, Beca, even us old people can have fun sometimes.”

Chloe glances at the ground, the muscles between her shoulders tensing in response to the strain she feels pouring off of Beca in waves. Chloe’s desperate to reach out and touch her, but she knows she can’t.

“How’re you, Chloe?”

Warren’s question startles her. “Good,” she replies hastily. “Great. You guys?”

Sheila nods, looking around the parking lot. “We’re good, all good. Are the rest of the Bellas still inside?”

Chloe’s blood turns to ice. There’s no way they can lie.

She tries to shift even further from Beca without Sheila or Warren noticing.

“Uh, no,” she replies, thinking quickly. “We figured – that is, Beca and I – figured we could use some, uh, captain bonding time. You know, just prepping things for when Emily takes over,” she finishes, gesturing vaguely.

It doesn’t really make sense – there’s no need to bond as captains now that they’ve graduated, and exactly what “prepping” they could do at a roller rink is beyond Chloe – but Warren and Sheila don’t question it.

“Right,” Warren nods grandly. “I suppose Emily will be taking over, now.”

“Yep,” Beca replies, her voice clipped. “It’s all very… is there anything else, or…?”

Warren’s eyebrows draw together and he looks at Beca quizzically. Chloe wishes a hole would open under her feet and drag her down and out of this situation.

There’s a pause, then out of nowhere, Sheila asks, “Have you heard anything from Jesse?”

Chloe’s stomach jolts.

“What do you mean?” Beca asks quickly.

“Well, you know. I mean, he was always such a nice boy.”

“I…”

“It’s just a shame to let the good ones go, you know. I don’t want you to regret anything,” Sheila says, leaning closer to emphasize her point.

Chloe closes her eyes briefly, hoping it looks like she’s shielding them from the sun.

“It’s for the best, the breakup,” Beca replies firmly. Chloe reopens her eyes; from Beca’s tone, she can tell Beca’s struggling to remain calm. “He’s still my friend, but that’s it.”

Sheila purses her lips. “Well. I’m sure if you asked, maybe he’d be willing to be more than friends again. He’s good for you, Beca.”

“I’m really okay.”

Sheila’s eyes narrow at the icy tone, then turn on Chloe. Chloe swallows, hard.

“And what about you, dear?”

“Sheila…” Warren clears his throat, looking embarrassed, but Chloe can tell Sheila still expects an answer.

Chloe forces her face into what she hopes is a polite smile. “What about me?” she asks, nervous.

“Are there any men in your life?”

Pebbles shift again where Beca stands as she moves another inch away. The anger radiating from her small frame tastes sharp and metallic.

“Oh, no, no men for me…” she tries to answer without placing inflection the “men” part.

“Really?” Sheila’s eyebrows lift. “Honey, with your looks, you should be able to get any cute boy you want.”

From the corner of her eye, Chloe sees Beca look down at the ground.

Chloe doesn’t know what to do but try to laugh it off, panic mounting in her chest by the second.

“I guess… just busy, you know,” she says, fighting to keep her tone even. “With Worlds, and... and I’m applying for internships different places around the country,” she replies, hoping Sheila will take the hint and ask where she’s applied.

“Ah,” Sheila nods. “Right, I’m sure once you move on out of this town, get settled, then the dating will pick up for sure. Between you and me,” her voice drops to a stage-whisper and she grins conspiratorially, “they make them better out there than they do here.”

“They make them okay here,” Chloe replies without thinking, feeling Beca’s wide eyes on the side of her face.

“I’m sure,” Sheila nods amicably.

Warren clears his throat more loudly and makes a show of checking his watch. “Well, I think we should let you girls go. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of – um, bonding activities planned,” he smiles at them.

Chloe hopes her answering laugh doesn’t sound as hysterical as she thinks it might.

“Bye, Beca,” Warren nods at his only child, placing his hand on Sheila’s back to steer her toward the entrance to the roller rink. “Chloe, until next time.”

Beca makes a sort of grunting noise, and Chloe tries for a smile, her cheek muscles feeling stiff. They watch Warren and Sheila go. It’s only until they step inside the roller rink that Chloe realizes she’s holding her breath; she lets it out in a whoosh, the start of a headache mounting in her temples.

She turns to Beca, mouth open, though whether to apologize or ask if she’s okay, Chloe isn’t sure. But the look on Beca’s face, equal parts mournful and exhausted, traps Chloe’s voice in her throat. Beca shakes her head, looks at the ground, and without a word, goes to Chloe’s car and climbs into the passenger seat.

Chloe stares at the car dumbly until her body catches up with her brain. She lurches forward, numb inside, and gets into the driver’s seat, closing the door and muting the world outside.

It’s silent in the car. Chloe doesn’t know what to say.

She risks a glance over. Her chest throbs at the sight; Beca’s leaning her head against the glass of the window, eyes locked on something outside.

_Have you heard anything from Jesse?_

_Well. I’m sure if you asked, maybe he’d be willing to be more than friends again. He’s good for you, Beca._

For the first time, Chloe understands what dating Beca might mean for both of them.

Chloe’s hands grip the wheel so hard her knuckles are white. She can’t bear to look at Beca, scared of what she might see, terrified that their first kiss might be their last.

She starts the car, and, leaving the radio off, backs out of the parking spot, and drives toward the exit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry?


	14. Chapter 14 - Beca

Beca stares out the passenger window of Chloe’s car without seeing. She kind of wishes Chloe would turn the radio on but doesn’t have the energy to suggest it or to do it herself.

She wonders what Chloe’s thinking.

_Honey, with your looks, you should be able to get any cute boy you want._

_Between you and me, they make them better out there than they do here._

That interaction should never have happened. The date was supposed to be just them, where they could be themselves. They weren’t supposed to run into her dad and Sheila.

Beca clenches her jaw around the howl of anger trying to escape her chest. _Is this some kind of sign?_ she wants to yell at the world. _Are you trying to tell me that what we’re doing really is wrong?_

But no. Beca’s never been one to believe in any higher power dictating her life. Those teenagers hadn’t cared that she and Chloe were there as a couple.

Besides. Kissing Chloe had felt too perfect for Beca to really believe it was wrong.

Even if Sheila’s comments had been some sort of sign, Beca fully intends to ignore it.

Chloe hasn’t said a word since they’d left the roller rink. That scares Beca far more than Sheila does. Chloe deserves better than what happened. If that had been Chloe’s family surprising them following a date, they could have kept holding hands – at least, that’s the impression Beca gets from hearing about Chloe’s parents. They wouldn’t have minded.

It had hurt when Chloe had tugged her hand away, but not from the force of the pull. Pretending to be something they’re not is becoming harder by the day. Beca knows that if Chloe were dating a “cute boy” or even a girl who was out to her own parents, she wouldn’t have had to pull away like that.

Chloe deserves better, and Beca’s sure she realizes it.

The car stops, jerking Beca from her thoughts. She blinks in surprise, seeing they’re already back at the Bella house. Chloe puts the car in park and turns it off. She doesn’t say anything, though, and she doesn’t look at Beca. By the way a muscle in her cheek stands out, Beca can tell she’s clenching her jaw. For a scary moment, Chloe’s posture is so rigid that Beca’s reminded forcefully of Aubrey.

They sit in silence. Beca can’t even hear Chloe breathing.

She knows she has to say something.

“Chloe? Are you… do you still want to be with me?”

Even the mere thought of Chloe leaving sends a sick twist of pain to her gut.

“Yes.”

Chloe’s reply is instant and soothing. She looks at Beca for the first time since leaving the parking lot, and Beca’s stunned to see the same pain and fear she feels reflected back at her.

“You still want to be with me?” Chloe whispers, eyes wide and scared.

“Oh, God, of course,” Beca exhales in a rush. “That’s – nothing changed.”

Chloe gives her a shaky smile and closes her eyes briefly. “Good,” she says, reopening them.

Just like that, Beca can breathe again. Most of the dense tension in the car is erased with those simple assurances, and Beca allows herself a moment to calm her racing heart.

Still. She knows she has to acknowledge what happened, or it will sit between them and fester like an open wound.

“I – I’m sorry,” she says, knowing the words aren’t really enough to fix it.

Chloe’s eyebrows rise. “For what?”

Beca shrugs uncomfortably. “For… what happened back there. I – that shouldn’t have happened. I’m so, so sorry.”

Chloe turns to her fully, unbuckling her seatbelt so she can twist her upper body toward Beca.

“That wasn’t your fault, Bec.” Chloe’s voice is more delicate, perhaps, than Beca has ever heard it. Somehow, that only makes things worse; it would be better if Chloe yelled.

“I should have told them about me,” Beca replies, trying to make Chloe understand that yes, it _is_ her fault. “About us. We shouldn’t have to pretend like that.”

Chloe reaches out, maybe to touch Beca’s shoulder, but then changes her mind. She retracts her hand, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

“Would it have made a difference to tell them?” Chloe asks, her tone turning icy.

“Probably not,” Beca winces at the harshness of Chloe’s voice. “Are you angry?”

“Yeah. Furious.”

Beca closes her eyes and raises a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Wait, no – I’m not angry at you, Bec,” Chloe’s quick amends brings Beca’s attention back up to meet her earnest eyes.

“Never at you,” Chloe continues. “I’m… I didn’t think they’d be like that. I really didn’t.”

“It’s just Sheila,” Beca growls in frustration. “My dad… he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t stop her, either.”

“Has this kind of thing happened before?”

Beca nods, pursing her lips. “Just. She’s said things. About gay people. And how she hates seeing it, thinks it’s disgusting. If she’d seen us holding hands...”

Beca lets her voice trail off, not liking to think about it. If Beca’s mom were still alive, she wouldn’t have cared. She’d have wanted to meet Chloe.

_I’ll always love you. No matter what._

Beca sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair as she shuts down the memories of her mom. “It’s... this isn’t fair to you.”

Chloe shifts in her seat, but Beca keeps going.

“I’m sorry. I understand if you’d rather – you know, go find all those ‘cute boys,’ or –”

Beca cuts herself off with a dark laugh, only half-joking. A lance of pain shoots through her chest, making her wince, and Chloe does reach out and touch her arm then.

“Beca, stop,” she says. “I don’t want that. I want this. I want… what we have.”

“I want this, too.”

Chloe looks at her strangely and she drops her hand from Beca’s arm.

“So… you don’t want Jesse back?” she asks in a tight voice, speaking to the steering wheel.

“Ugh! God, no!” Beca blurts, feeling her face twist in disgust. “Absolutely not!”

It makes Chloe laugh and grin at her, eyes sparkling.

“I mean, he’s fine,” Beca backpedals with a huff, feeling the need to defend him after that. “But I don’t... he’s not you,” she finishes, not knowing what else to say besides the truth.

Chloe’s expression softens until she’s looking at Beca in a way that makes her stomach flutter and insides warm with happiness.

“We okay?” Chloe asks gently.

“Yeah,” Beca sighs, relieved. “We’re okay.”

It’s a little alarming, how much better that knowledge makes her feel despite what Sheila had said to them both. She knows she probably loves Chloe. She’s probably loved Chloe this whole time, and in the way Jesse had always wanted her to love him. She’d feel guilty about it if it didn’t make her so happy.

They haven’t labeled what they have, and with a thrill of nerves she knows probably aren’t needed, Beca thinks it might be time to do so.

“We haven’t really, um, talked about it, but, uh, are we… girlfriends?” she asks tentatively, the word feeling foreign in her mouth.

Chloe looks at her, startled, as if she hadn’t expected Beca to bring it up. A small but pleased-looking smile grows on her face, and Beca’s hands twitch in her lap.

“I’d like that,” Chloe nods.

“Right,” Beca breathes. “Then… Chloe, will you be my girlfriend?”

The wattage of Chloe’s smile would probably be enough to light the whole block.

“Yes,” she says, bouncing a little in her seat in excitement. Then, her expression turns serious, but by the way her eyes brighten and cheeks twitch, Beca can tell she’s holding back a smile.

“Wait, I gotta... Beca, will you be my girlfriend?” she asks in an outrageously pompous voice.

“No.”

The shock on Chloe’s face snaps Beca out of her act, making her laugh loudly. “Sorry,” she grins. “That was mean. But I had to get you back for when I asked you out!”

“That was mean!” Chloe hits her lightly on the shoulder, but there’s no real force behind it. “I deserved it, though,” she admits with a smile.

“Yeah, you kinda did,” Beca agrees, but then tries to school her face into a more serious one. “And to answer your question… yes, I’ll be your girlfriend. Duh.”

“Awes,” Chloe smiles. “In that case…”

She’s already unbuckled her seatbelt, so Beca doesn’t get much warning when Chloe starts to lift herself from her seat, swinging a leg over the center console. With an excited thrill to her center, Beca realizes what she’s trying to do. She unbuckles her own seatbelt and hastily shoves her seat as far back as it can go in time for Chloe to straddle her, settling astride her lap with a knee on either side of her hips.

“Oh, wow, hi,” Beca breathes, her hands resting on Chloe’s hips without her conscious command.

Ever since their first date, Beca’s been noticing that more and more: her hands moving automatically to find Chloe. Touching Chloe, and being touched by Chloe, has become like a drug shooting through her system until it’s all she craves in life.

“Hi,” Chloe whispers back. “This okay?”

“Totes,” Beca replies, a little ironically.

Chloe rolls her eyes, leans down while Beca tilts her chin up, and then they’re kissing.

Kissing Chloe is like nothing Beca has ever experienced. The way their lips fit together, all warm and soft and perfectly aligned as if they’re matching pieces in a puzzle, sends fire racing down Beca’s spine. Chloe’s lips, careful and slow, meet hers movement for movement, pressing and insistent, but never rushed or demanding.

Chloe’s hands land on her shoulders, occasionally venturing up to stroke lightly down the sides of her neck in time with a slow song only she seems to be able to hear. Beca can tell she’s holding back, keeping things under control, maybe trying to protect Beca still, despite her position on her lap.

It ignites a spark of frustration deep within Beca – she’s not fragile, she’s not some porcelain doll waiting to be shattered – and so Beca slides her hands around to Chloe’s lower back, pulling her closer and drawing a surprised gasp from Chloe’s throat. Beca draws Chloe’s lower lip between her own lips, tracing her tongue over it slowly, carefully, until, with a sigh, Chloe opens her mouth.

And that’s definitely Chloe’s tongue now, meeting hers and slipping into her mouth. It makes Beca moan, and Chloe presses even closer. The hands on Beca’s neck rise, following the form of it until they slip into her hair. They don’t tug, but they guide, until Beca’s head is tilted back further and the angle on their kiss deepens, Chloe’s tongue dipping into Beca’s mouth before retreating.

At the loss, Beca experimentally nips gently at Chloe’s lip. Chloe makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper and the sound of it sends heat shooting through Beca’s body. Her hands shift, seeking out the hem of Chloe’s shirt and pushing past it as if it’s not there, until her touch finds the soft and smooth skin of Chloe’s lower back.

Chloe whimpers properly then, moving her hands from Beca’s hair and pulling back to drop her lips to the side of Beca’s neck. It makes Beca choke on air and forces her head back further against the headrest as Chloe presses light, feathery kisses to her throat, careful not to use too much force as to avoid leaving marks. It tickles a little, and Beca squirms under her as she kisses her way down. She reaches the base of Beca’s neck and seems to hesitate, but then a warm wetness is dragging its way up her skin, and Beca’s mind is thrown back to the body shots at the unmistakable feel of Chloe’s tongue on her neck.

Beca hears herself groan and her hips lift automatically; it’s a little embarrassing, but Chloe only whimpers again and sits more firmly on Beca’s lap. Beca’s hands continue their exploration of Chloe’s back, sliding upward but purposely staying away from her bra strap. Instead, when Chloe reunites their lips in another tongue-filled kiss, Beca digs her nails lightly into the skin on either side of Chloe’s spine and drags them down toward the waistline of her jeans.

Chloe moans unrestrainedly into her mouth, the sound ricocheting around Beca’s brain and causing something hot to coil and pool low in her stomach. The feeling is both familiar and unfamiliar; familiar because Beca knows what it is and why it’s there, but unfamiliar because it’s Chloe causing it. It’s Chloe making her toes curl in her shoes and kissing her like her life depends on it; it’s Chloe surrounding her, pressing ever closer, turning her on.

It makes Beca groan and change the angle of the kiss, wanting to _learn_ Chloe the way she deserves. As she does, though, the back of her neck prickles and she instinctively opens her eyes just a crack to make immediate and direct eye contact with Lilly, standing outside the passenger window and looking in to watch them.

Beca shrieks and jolts in surprise; she startles Chloe, who jerks up and smacks her head on the ceiling of the car with a squeak of pain.

“Shit, are you okay?” Beca asks, her voice raspy and not her own.

“Yeah…” Chloe says through gritted teeth, rubbing the top of her head.

They look at each other, then simultaneously turn to stare out the window. Outside, Lilly sucks her cheeks in and makes her fish face at them, pulsing her lips.

Beca sighs, her face warming.

“I guess we need to tell them.”

*******************

_The DSM leader is hot._

_The female leader. Not the tall, dark-haired guy, but the tall, blonde woman. Kommissar._

_She’s hot and it’s confusing._

_Beca hears the words fall from her lips with a mild sense of horror; she’s never called anyone “physically flawless” before. And she’s not lying when she drops the “sexually confused” bomb, either._

_She can’t help it; Kommissar is stunning, and at this point, there’s no question in Beca’s mind that she’s attracted to her. That’s all it is, though, a surface-level physical attraction. There’s nothing weird about it, and it has absolutely no potential of going anywhere. It’s not like she’s gay, for god’s sake. She simply recognizes attractive people._

_She can’t stop complimenting Kommissar._

_She likes the way it makes Chloe look at her._

_(Kommissar is hot, but even she has nothing on Chloe Beale.)_

*******************

“Beca and I are together,” Chloe tells the room at large.

Beca half-glances in her direction, not expecting her to be that blunt about it. But then again, it is Chloe, and she’s not sure what else she thought would happen.

The announcement is met with nine blank stares; eight in person, the ninth being Aubrey, Skyping in on the Emergency Bellas Meeting Chloe had called fewer than five minutes ago.

Beca holds her breath, waiting for a reaction. She expects Aubrey, at least, to be outraged. Beside her, Chloe stands stock-still, eyes wide. Beca squeezes her hand once, trying to reassure her.

Stacie laughs, loudly and openly. “Dear god, finally!” she groans, throwing her hands up into the air in exasperation.

“Whoomp, there it is,” Amy says, then returns to texting on her phone.

Cynthia Rose smiles and huffs. “About damn time.”

In the back of the room, Beca spots Emily handing a $20 bill to Jessica with a pout, with Lilly and Ashley consulting some sort of log book.

“Hey, did you just –”

Beca’s cut off by Aubrey’s voice, annoyed and slightly tinny through Chloe’s laptop speakers.

“Gremlin, if you hurt her, I will drive over and cut out your tongue.”

“Aubrey,” Chloe admonishes, “don’t do that. I’m becoming fond of her tongue.”

“Gross,” Aubrey says, closing her eyes in disgust.

“I’m not gonna hurt her,” Beca says, trying hard to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck.

“Yeah, yeah,” Flo cuts in, waving them aside. “We know. She’s precious and your intentions are pure. Great. You’re blocking the TV.”

“So… is this okay?” Chloe asks, ever the concerned captain. “If you guys are worried about anything, just tell us.”

“Hey, no sex on my bed,” Amy says with a glare. “Other than that, it’s fine. Now, go, resume licking each other’s faces or whatever.”

The rest of the Bellas nod, seemingly uninterested. Lilly stares, making her fish face again.

Dumbfounded, Beca and Chloe move off to the side, escaping into the kitchen with an awkward shuffle. Beca leaves a seemingly shell-shocked Chloe at the counter in favor of reaching for the bag of tortilla chips on top of the refrigerator.

“That’s… it?” Chloe asks when Beca returns, chips in hand with one already on the way to her mouth.

Beca shrugs. “Now you know how I felt when I came out.”

“Hmm. Disappointing.”

“A little, yeah.”

Beca crunches on her chips for a moment, thinking, while Chloe pouts in front of her. It could have been worse, she supposes. At least they know they’re being supported by the Bellas. Then, something occurs to her and she pauses mid-crunch.

“Was Aubrey serious about cutting out my tongue?”

Chloe looks at her thoughtfully for a minute, then grins. “Let’s just say… don’t test her.” she says and leans forward to peck Beca on the lips. “Wanna go upstairs and make out some more?” she asks with a wink so casual that it makes Beca want to explode.

In a rush, Beca swallows the remnants of her chip, then tosses the rest of the bag down onto the counter before grabbing Chloe’s hand and making a beeline to the stairs, Chloe’s bright laughter echoing in her ears.

 


	15. Chapter 15 - Beca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobia and use of hate language, as well as slurs.

The sound of her phone buzzing incessantly shatters Beca’s concentration. She reluctantly drags her eyes from her laptop screen and reaches for her phone, seeing several texts from Jesse.

_J: How’s it going?_

_J: Becaw!_

_J: Are u with Chloe?_

_J: I bet ur with Chloe_

_J: Did u guys do it yet?_

Beca cringes and rolls her eyes. There’s just something that seems so very wrong about her ex-boyfriend asking about her current girlfriend (even thinking the word still makes butterflies flutter in Beca’s stomach). She types back the only thing she can think to say to that.

_B: Gross._

His reply is almost instantaneous.

_J: If u think it’s gross u might have to reexamine_

_J: Again, I mean_

Beca sighs, giving her laptop a last regretful look, mourning the loss of her productivity. She pushes her chair away from the desk so she can prop her feet up on it while she types up her reply.

_B: I mean you asking about it is gross. It’s weird, dude._

_J: It’s been like forever tho_

Beca scowls. It most certainly has not been “forever,” and besides, it’s really none of his business in the first place.

_B: It’s been 3 weeks._

_J: Forever_

_B: You’re weirdly invested in this. Stop._

_J: Just trying to be ur lesbro. If I were gay for Max, I’d expect u to support me_

Beca snorts; if Jesse were, in fact, “gay for” his new roommate, she supposes she’d be asking him just as many questions about it.

But not those kinds of questions.

_B: Supportive is different than asking if we’ve done it. Are you gay for Max?_

_J: Don’t think so_

_B: Great. Bye, Jesse._

_J: Bye!_

Beca sighs in relief, placing her phone face-down on the desk. She returns to her laptop, lowering her feet from her desk and scooting her chair back in place. Just as she moves her hands to the keyboard, though, a light knock sounds on her closed bedroom door. Unlike Jesse’s intrusion, this one is welcome; she smiles, the familiar sound filling her chest with warmth, and calls, “It’s open!”

A second later, the door opens and she hears light footsteps on the stairs leading up to the room. Beca looks over and catches Chloe’s eye, peeking over the railing.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Beca greets her, grinning happily when Chloe walks toward her with purpose.

Instead of answering, Chloe rests one hand on the back of Beca’s chair, pushes it away from the desk, and, with practiced ease, swings a leg over to settle into Beca’s lap with a contented sigh.

“Oh, hi,” Beca manages, her hands rising automatically to Chloe’s hips to steady her and keep her from falling backward.

“Hi,” Chloe grins down at her. “Have a second?”

Beca nods, already tilting her face up, and Chloe leans forward until their lips meet.

They exchange kisses for several minutes, Beca losing herself in the feel of Chloe’s body warm and solid against hers, and of her lips and tongue moving languidly against her own. No matter how often they kiss, Beca doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of the way it makes her entire body light up and hum in response. She’s starting to think that any minute not spent kissing Chloe is a minute wasted.

Her hands slip up the back of Chloe’s shirt, fingers idly drawing patterns against the warm skin of her back. Her touch grows bolder, sliding up to trace over Chloe’s bra strap teasingly and back down. Chloe hums and presses even closer, her hands letting go of the back of the chair in favor of sliding into Beca’s hair, cradling the back of her head and holding her close.

After several minutes of this, their kissing comes to a natural end. Chloe pulls back somewhat reluctantly and turns around to sit in the chair so that her hips rest between Beca’s legs. Beca leans forward to wrap her arms around Chloe’s waist, drawing their bodies even closer together, and rests her chin on Chloe’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

“Feels nice,” Chloe whispers, leaning into Beca.

Beca hums in contentment, watching Chloe examine her open laptop.

“What’re you working on?” Chloe asks, reading the screen.

“Applying for a couple of jobs,” Beca replies, pressing a kiss to the side of Chloe’s neck and smiling when it makes Chloe squeak a little. “Um, New York, mostly. Chicago, too, and Nashville.”

“All over, huh?”

“I want to keep my options open.”

“Right,” Chloe says faintly, leaning her head into Beca’s temple momentarily. Her fingers trace idly over Beca’s arms around her waist, leaving Beca’s skin twitching in response. Chloe takes a deep breath that Beca can feel, then asks, her tone a little off, “Do you wanna go on a walk or something? Take a break from this?”

“I’d love to,” Beca replies, now pressing a kiss to Chloe’s cheek, “but I’m meeting my dad and Sheila for dinner in, like, half an hour.” She glances at the time on her laptop. “Or, like, in twenty-three minutes.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice,” Chloe replies, her tone a little too bright to be natural. Her hands still against Beca’s arms.

Beca raises an eyebrow and looks at her as best she can from their position.

“Okay, yeah,” Chloe concedes, “I know, but they’re paying for dinner at least.”

“That is a good thing,” Beca agrees, leaning her cheek against Chloe’s shoulder. “I don’t know, my dad has just been on my ass about getting together since we saw them.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop at the reminder of their last encounter. Beca squeezes Chloe gently, trying to bring her back to the present.

“Well,” Chloe says bracingly after a moment. “Good luck, and tell them I say hi.”

“Okay, thanks,” Beca sighs. “I’ll need it.”

Chloe taps on her arms lightly once, asking without speaking to be let up. A little begrudgingly, Beca releases her hold around Chloe’s waist, allowing Chloe to rise from the chair. As soon as she stands, Beca misses her warmth.

“I’ll let you get some work done, then, before you go,” Chloe says, making her way back across the room. “Come find me later?” she asks.

“Definitely,” Beca promises. “Got something planned?”

“Maybe.”

Chloe makes a show of walking away, swaying her hips more than totally necessary, and consequently, Beca finds herself more focused on them than totally necessary. At the top of the stairs, she pauses, turning with a smirk, and Beca knows she’s been caught.

“Um, ah –”

Chloe grins wickedly, but before she can comment, the bedroom door reopens and Amy’s voice drifts up from the foot of the short staircase.

“Oh, hi, what were you two aca-lesbos up to? Better not have been on my bed.”

“No promises,” Chloe quips back, her tone less than innocent.

Beca closes her eyes, leans forward, and groans into her hands.

She’s totally whipped.

* * *

Beca parks Chloe’s car (they pretty much have an unspoken agreement that Beca can borrow it whenever she needs) in the lot of Platter o’ Peaches, her father’s favorite family-style restaurant in Barden. She turns off the car but doesn’t get out yet. She feels twitchy, electric, almost, as if some sort of storm is coming in the distance. The last time she’d seen Sheila and her dad echoes unpleasantly in her mind, setting her teeth on edge.

_Well. I’m sure if you asked, maybe he’d be willing to be more than friends again. He’s good for you, Beca._

_Honey, with your looks, you should be able to get any cute boy you want._

She hasn’t unbuckled her seatbelt yet, and for a moment she debates the merit of just driving away again. She could always claim she forgot about meeting them and try to reschedule. She has a feeling that won’t fly, though, and takes a steadying breath, resigning herself to her fate.  She unbuckles her seat belt with a grumbled swear word and steps out of the car.

She’d parked close to the entrance, so the walk is short. She hauls open the annoyingly heavy door, knowing she’s running almost five minutes late. Sure enough, when she steps inside and greets the expectant-looking host, she hears her name being called.

Glancing to her left, she sees her dad and Sheila already have secured a table toward the center of the restaurant. They both wave at her, her dad looking happy to see her, and Sheila appearing almost disappointed, as if she’d been hoping Beca wouldn’t show.

Beca can already tell this won’t be pleasant.

With a closed-lipped smile at the host, Beca walks over to their table, weaving through other customers. It’s a Wednesday just before dinnertime, so the place isn’t super crowded, but it’s far from empty. While no one sits at the tables directly next to Warren and Sheila, a group of what looks like businessmen sits at an adjacent table, and an elderly couple sits near the windows on the opposite side of the room. The back wall is lined with booths, only two of which hold small groups of people, already digging into their gravy-covered meals.

Beca reaches her dad and Sheila’s table, forcing a smile onto her face that probably looks just as painful as it feels.

“Hi, Beca,” Warren greets. “You’re looking well.”

She hates how formal he is. He never used to talk like that when it was just him and her mom.

“Thanks,” she replies, pulling out her chair.

“Cutting it a little close on time, though,” Sheila notes, taking a sip of her water.

Beca’s teeth clench together as she takes her seat. “Yeah, well, my hair took a while.”

She’d pulled it into a messy bun 30 seconds before leaving the house.

Sheila raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment any further.

“So… how’s it going?” Beca asks, trying for at least some civility. She knows she’s probably being harsher than they deserve, but they had almost ruined her second date with Chloe.

“Really well, thanks,” Sheila answers, then follows with, “No Chloe?”

Beca’s back tenses against her chair. Sheila’s tone is neutral, and if Beca didn’t know better, she’d almost think Sheila’s asking out of polite interest. However, the way Sheila looks at her, as if waiting for her to stumble and give something away, is unnerving. Warren merely peruses the menu in front of him, seemingly oblivious.

“Oh, no, no Chloe,” Beca tries to laugh it off, moving her chair back closer to the table. “Why do you ask?”

“You two seem to spend a lot of time together,” Sheila replies with a shrug that’s probably meant to be casual. “I think you’re with her more than with just about anyone else, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well,” Beca stalls, hiding her nerves by unfolding her napkin and arranging it in her lap. “Just, we were co-captains. So, Dad, what’s good here?” She knows it’s a blatant deflection, but it’s the only thing she can think to do.

Warren looks up, blinking, as if surprised to be addressed directly. “Oh, you know,” he says mildly, though Beca most certainly does not know. “The burgers are always my go-to.”

“Awes, well, I’ll look,” Beca replies, hiding her faint blush at the use of Chloe’s word behind the menu as she starts to search for a decent lunch.

Thankfully, silence falls as all three of them examine the menus. Beca’s almost positive her dad and Sheila don’t really need the menu; they probably eat here often enough, since neither of them can really cook. Beca uses the time to try to calm herself down, reading each menu item through carefully. It’s mildly concerning that the only items that seem to come without some form of gravy are the salads and club sandwiches.

When the waitress comes to take their order, Warren selects a regular hamburger and Sheila orders a salad and soup, with a loud and unnecessary comment about watching her weight. When the waitress turns to her, pen and pad in hand, Beca panics a little and ends up ordering the turkey club sandwich, even though she doesn’t really like turkey.

As soon as the waitress leaves with their orders, Sheila opens her mouth, probably to ask about Beca’s personal dating life or something equally invasive, but Warren cuts her off.

“So, you’re applying for jobs, then?” he asks, leaning forward.

Relieved, Beca takes the opportunity to tell them about the various producer positions she’s uncovered all across the country. He seems genuinely interested, as does Sheila, and that topic of conversation lasts well after their food comes and they start to eat. She’s careful to avoid mentioning Chloe and her own job search.

The lunch is actually going surprisingly well, and Beca feels herself relaxing as their meal continues without incident. She’s already more than halfway done with her club – the bacon on it helps cover the turkey – when two women, slightly older than her and holding hands, enter the restaurant.

They’re very clearly a couple; not only are they holding hands, but they’re looking at each other in a way Beca recognizes from how Chloe looks at her now. Beca immediately tenses, her eyes flicking to Sheila, who appears too enthralled by her limp salad to have noticed the couple’s entrance.

Beca watches closely as the host greets the women with a friendly smile and – _no, no, no_ – leads them toward the table Beca shares with Sheila and Warren. Beca’s shoulders tense and she stares down at her club sandwich, desperate to keep Sheila’s attention down and away from the couple. The host leads them so close to their table that it Beca can feel the air stirring as they pass, but she still doesn’t look up.

Beca wonders why the women aren’t more careful in public. A small, snide part of her thinks they should know better than to act like that around potentially hostile strangers.

It’s not until the host returns to his stand that Beca risks a glance over her shoulder to see where the women ended up. To her alarm, she sees there are only a few tables between them, the women sitting at a booth along the wall directly behind Beca.

If Sheila were to look up, they’d be almost directly in her line of sight.

“Are there usually tomatoes in this salad?” Sheila asks the table at large, poking at a leaf of lettuce with her fork.

“Um –”

“You know, I’m going to ask,” Sheila twists around, looking for their waitress, even though she’s almost done with the salad anyway.

Her eyes scan the restaurant, and Beca can tell the instant she sees the couple. Her eyes lock onto them and her jaw goes slack.

Beca winces, dropping her attention to her plate.

“It’s getting worse,” Sheila says in an undertone, her voice full of disgust.

“What is?” Warren asks.

 _“That,”_ Sheila emphasizes, and without looking up, Beca knows she’s either pointing or nodding at the women so Warren can spot them.

Beca’s stomach rolls. She doesn’t think she can finish her sandwich.

“Maybe they’re friends,” Warren sighs, sounding so tired that it makes Beca look up. “Or sisters.”

“Not with the way they’re looking at each other.”

Knowing that she can’t feign deafness any longer, Beca glances over at where the women talk over their menus, smiling at one another with clear affection and happiness.

“Ugh, as if anyone wants to see that,” Sheila spits out. “I have half a mind to ask to switch tables.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Warren admonishes, rolling his eyes.

It doesn’t have any impact on Sheila.

“It’s in public now, everywhere,” she continues. “You know, ever since they passed that ridiculous marriage equality garbage, the whole country has gone downhill.”

“Sheila…”

“What? I’m just stating facts. That law has everyone in a tizzy. It’s rude, you know, forcing themselves on us, like –”

“I’m dating Chloe.”

The words come out before Beca can stop them, totally beyond her control and likely in response to the disgust in Sheila’s voice. As soon as they’re out, she wants to take them back, to rewind, to pretend it hadn’t happened, but she can’t.

Immediately, panic rises in Beca’s throat like bile; she’d never intended to come out like this, with just some throwaway comment that doesn’t even come close to describing the most important relationship in her life.

Warren stares at her, his expression blank and surprised. She can’t tell what he’s feeling, has no idea what he thinks of her. Sheila, cut off mid-sentence, only stares at her, mouth open. It makes her look very foolish.

Beca takes a bite of her sandwich in an attempt to settle her stomach. Her entire body is numb.

“What did you say?” Sheila asks quietly.

Beca can’t answer.

“You’re a dyke?”

The instant Sheila asks, Beca stiffens and grips her sandwich tightly, the word impaling her stomach like a knife.

Beca’s dad puts down his hamburger and turns to Sheila, his expression serious. “Hey, that’s not –”

“That’s what she said, Warren, not me. She said she’s a dyke.”

Beca’s ears are ringing and she struggles to catch her breath. This is all her fault. She’d messed up. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“No, I said I’m dating Chloe,” she manages.

Sheila laughs, a cold scoff of a noise. “Same thing! Either way, it’s not natural,” she insists, then turns to Beca’s dad. “See, Warren, I told you they were too close, I told you it wasn’t right –”

Warren speaks over her, ignoring her scandalized expression. “While this is a, uh, surprise… we would love to get to know Chloe more, Beca,” he says kindly. “Why don’t you invite her over for dinner sometime?”

“Oh, sure, just encourage her!” Sheila throws her hands into the air, shutting down the idea before Beca can respond.

Beca puts down her sandwich, setting it back onto her plate. Her hands have started to shake.

A few people at the tables around them have tuned to stare, while simultaneously pretending they don’t notice anything amiss. Beca can only hope that the lesbian couple sitting behind her haven’t heard Sheila’s carrying voice.

“How long have you two been… how long has this been going on?” Warren asks carefully, compensating for Sheila by keeping the volume of his voice so low that Beca has to lean in to hear it.

“Um. Like three weeks,” Beca replies, not looking at him.

“Three weeks?!” Sheila gasps. “That’s – we saw you! Warren, I told you they’d been holding hands. I saw it!”

Beca knows she can’t lie.

“That was a date,” she whispers. On her plate, her food stares sadly back up at her.

There’s a beat of silence while Sheila and Warren absorb and process what she said. Beca’s eyes flick from the table to the door, mentally calculating how long it would take to for her to cross the distance.

“Beca, you’re confused,” Sheila begins in a sickly-sweet voice. “You’re not – what makes you think – how do you know you’re – like that?”

“How do you know you’re straight?” Beca fires back, meeting her in the eye for the first time in several minutes.

Sheila gapes at her in shock, while beside her, Warren seems to be trying to hide a smile. Beca shifts in her chair.

“You know what, I never liked this Chloe girl,” Sheila says pompously after a second, lifting her water glass to take a leisurely sip. “Suspicious type, and loud. Too friendly, like she wants something.”

“Sheila –”

“No, no, let me finish,” Sheila stops Warren and leans forward, extending a hand across the table to Beca, as if asking her to link their hands. Beca doesn’t touch it.

“Listen, Beca, honey,” she says quietly, adopting what is probably supposed to be a motherly tone. Beca hands curl into fists in her lap. “Did she persuade you? Is the threatening you with something if you don’t go along with her sick game? Has she touched you... inappropriately? We can bring her up on charges for that kind of thing.”

“Sheila!”

“It’s – that’s – no!” Beca argues back desperately, her eyes starting to sting. “I asked her out! I’ve wanted to date her for a long time!”

“I’m sure that’s what she let you believe –”

“No, that’s how I feel! I’m in love with her!”

“She’s brainwashed you into feeling something you don’t! You aren’t in love with her!”

Silence follows Sheila’s shout. Around them, the restaurant stills and heads turn in their direction. Warren shifts, looking awkward and uncomfortable, and reaches for his hamburger as if his wife and daughter aren’t engaged in a heated argument.

Gradually, the other diners around them return to their own business, and the soft hum of conversation around them resumes.

Beca breathes hard, staring at her plate again, trying to calm herself down. Yelling isn’t getting her anywhere. She needs to get out.

Before she can, though, Sheila says, much more softly, “Is that why you broke up with Jesse?”

“Oh my god!” Beca stares at her, incredulous. “Is that all you care about?”

“You broke up with him to be with – with Chloe?” Sheila presses, closing her eyes briefly as if Chloe’s name is a disgusting swear word.

“No, I – well, yeah, but it’s not –” Beca doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore. She can barely hear her own voice over the pounding in her ears.

“You said you like women now.”

“I –”

Sheila leans forward again, glancing around to see whether she still has an audience. Satisfied that no one seems to be watching them, she says grimly, “You know what, I knew it was wrong to leave you with your mother for so long.”

“What?” Beca gasps, bewildered.

Warren looks up from his burger sharply, his eyes flicking between Sheila and Beca.

“Beca, I need you to be honest with me now,” Sheila continues. “Were you ever molested as a child? Did that turn you away from men?”

Beca’s jaw falls open. She can’t think of a single thing to say.

“Oh my god,” Warren hisses, angry for the first time. “You can’t honestly believe that!”

“She hasn’t answered, Warren.”

He turns to Beca, looking exasperated. With a sick pang, Beca realizes he actually expects her to answer the question.

She’s never despised him more than she does in that moment.

“Of course I wasn’t molested,” she spits out through gritted teeth, her face warming with rage. “That’s just – that’s _disgusting_.”

Sheila sits back in her chair, annoyed. “No, honey, that’s us trying to get to the root of this problem. I know the marriage equality passing must be confusing, and I’m so sorry about that. You aren’t – you’re not _gay_ , Beca. I think, if you try to get back with Jesse, or just even if you find the right guy –”

Beca rises abruptly from the table, her hands slammed flat against its surface. Her entire body trembles with rage and she knows she’s about a second away from crying in anger, but she refuses to give Sheila the satisfaction.

“You know what?” she spits, taking petty satisfaction in how her father flinches away from her. “I’m done. I’m in love with Chloe, and that’s all it is. What you’re saying is – it’s –” Beca growls in rage, furious her words are failing her now. She takes a breath, then says with as much poise as she can muster, “You have to get used to it, or this is the last time we see each other.”

“Beca…”

Beca doesn’t even glance at her father. She reaches down, snatches her purse off the floor, and digs in it until she finds her wallet. Snapping it open, she fishes out a ten-dollar bill and throws it on the table, paying for her own meal.

Without another look at Warren and Sheila – and with a silent apology to everyone else in the restaurant, and especially to the lesbian couple – she walks away from the table, head held high.

“Beca!” Warren calls again, but she ignores him as completely as he’d ignored her when he’d walked out on her and her mom all those years ago.

She flings open the restaurant door, storms to Chloe’s car, fingers fumbling with the fob to unlock it. She has to try twice, but she eventually gets it, wrenches open the driver’s door, and throws herself in before slamming it.

Resting her forehead against the steering wheel, she draws desperate gulps of air into her lungs, trying to calm down so she can drive. She’s still trembling head to foot, and her throat and eyes burn with unshed tears. Squeezing her eyes closed, she imagines what’s happening inside the restaurant, wondering how long it will take her dad to come after her.

She imagines she has time to kill before that happens.

She yells out wordlessly in frustration; her heart still pounds and she wonders if she’s about to be sick. She knows she shouldn’t drive yet, but she needs to run, to escape from the mess she’d left behind.

Gritting her teeth, she starts Chloe’s car, turns the stereo up as loud as it can go, and, after fumbling with the seatbelt until it clicks into place, tears out of the parking lot at top speed. It’s risky, and it’s stupid, and it’s impulsive, but she presses the accelerator down even further, her only thoughts of escape and of the home she has in Chloe’s arms.


	16. Chapter 16 - Chloe

Chloe’s not entirely sure if what she has planned counts as a date. It’s very different from their other dates; this one involves staying home and shooting each other with Nerf guns, rather than going out mini-golfing (which she’d been horrible at) or going coffee-shop hopping over the course of a single day.

Chloe had borrowed the Nerf guns from Ashley and Jessica after she’d gotten the idea watching them shoot each other in the yard. It had looked fun, and Beca will probably like it.

The only problem is that it’s rapidly growing dark outside. Chloe knew about Beca’s dinner with her family, but she hadn’t thought it would take – she glances at the clock for the third time in ten minutes – two and a half hours.

She paces around her bedroom, Nerf guns waiting for their users on her bed. She knows the anxiety rolling in her stomach is unreasonable; Beca had gone to a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant. It’s not like she’s out hiking in the woods after dark or at some shady bar somewhere. There’s really no reason to be worried.

Chloe clutches her phone in her right hand, begging it to vibrate with a message from Beca. Even something simple, like “On the way now,” would soothe her nerves and ease the rebellion of her stomach. She debates whether distracting herself by looking at more applications for veterinary internships (specifically in New York, Chicago, or Nashville) would help anything, but she knows she won’t be able to focus clearly on those.

Beca’s been gone for almost three hours.

Chloe doesn’t have Warren’s phone number, or Sheila’s, though this makes her think she should get them. She knows she could try calling Beca herself, but if Beca’s driving, she doesn’t want to distract her from the road.

She’s not sure whether she should go downstairs and tell the others about her fears. She can distantly hear Cynthia Rose, Flo, and Emily in the kitchen, prepping their own dinners. She’s sure Amy has to be around somewhere, unless she’s with Bumper, and Chloe has a feeling she just needs to shout Lilly’s name for her to appear out of nowhere.

Beca really has been gone a long time.

She makes up her mind and crosses her room, opening the door to head downstairs, when she hears the front door open.

“Hey, Beca!” Emily’s voice chimes, and relief floods Chloe’s veins, weakening her knees.

“Beca? You okay?” Cynthia Rose’s voice comes next, followed by the sound of familiar, rapid footsteps up the stairs.

Chloe closes her eyes in disappointment. Dinner must not have gone well, then.

When she reopens them, she sees Beca climbing the stairs to the second-floor landing, safe and sound, but pale.

“Bec, what –”

Before Chloe can even get the question out, Beca reaches her, throwing her arms around Chloe’s frame and holding tight. The force of the hug, and Chloe’s surprise, sends Chloe stumbling backward into her bedroom. Beca only pulls away long enough to shut the door behind them and then she’s clinging to Chloe again.

“Are you okay? Where were you?” Chloe asks, alarmed. She loops her arm around Beca’s waist, feeling Beca burrowing tighter against her.

Beca doesn’t answer, only turning her face to press it into Chloe’s neck. She takes several deep, shuddering breaths.

“Beca, talk to me,” Chloe says softly, rubbing her hands up and down Beca’s back. “You’re scaring me.”

Beca sighs and sags in her arms, then whispers against her neck, “I told them.”

Chloe freezes. “What?”

“I told them – about us,” Beca replies shakily, pulling away so Chloe can see her properly. When she does, Chloe has to hide her shock; Beca looks exhausted, older than she’s ever seen her.

“It was an accident,” Beca continues tiredly. “There was – a couple came in, two women, and Sheila – she just said the worst things and I – I just blurted it out.”

Beca looks so miserable that Chloe immediately draws her back in for a tight hug, ignoring her own rising fear. Beca shudders against her, and Chloe resumes rubbing her back.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay, just breathe,” Chloe whispers, her eyes closing in sadness as she draws her own conclusions about what happened.

“No, it’s not okay,” Beca sighs against her skin. “They – Sheila –” she cuts herself off, pulling away and out of the hug completely to dig the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“Did she say something?” Chloe asks cautiously.

Beca blinks at her, anger replacing the exhaustion previously marring her features. She moves around Chloe with a huff Chloe knows isn’t directed at her and goes to the bed. With barely a glance at them, she moves the Nerf guns aside to make room for herself, sitting on Chloe’s bed with a sigh. Smiling sadly, Chloe joins her, taking one of Beca’s hands into her lap to trace over it softly.

Beca draws a deep breath, then forces out between clenched teeth, “Sheila said – horrible – these lies, these horrible things.”

“Beca…”

“I don’t even want to repeat it.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” Chloe promises, stunned by the venom in Beca’s voice.

“She was horrible.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe whispers, wishing she had something better to say. “Come here.”

She draws Beca back into her arms, Beca immediately fitting her head under Chloe’s chin. Chloe doesn’t know what to do beyond continuing to hold Beca. She’s never had to deal with something like this.

“Do you…” she begins cautiously, Beca pulling away slightly to look at her. “Do you, maybe, want me to get Cynthia Rose? She might understand more...”

Beca stares at the carpet, seeming to think it over for a minute. “I think… maybe I’ll talk to her later,” she eventually decides. “Right now, I just want to be with you.”

Chloe nods, not knowing what to say. Her mind whirs; she genuinely can’t imagine what Beca must be feeling, never having faced anything like this. Rejection from her family, based on who she is as a person, had never been something Chloe had to face. It had never really crossed her mind.

She’s starting to realize she’s incredibly lucky in that aspect.

“Where did you go?” Chloe asks tentatively. “You were gone for so long, and – I’d started to think…”

Beca runs a hand through her hair, glancing over at her. “Yeah, um, sorry. I should have texted or something, but I had to clear my head. I just drove around, tried to calm down. Had to pull over a few times so I could breathe.”

Chloe frowns at that, and Beca’s eyes widen.

“I put gas in the car after, don’t worry, dude,” she assures.

Chloe huffs and rolls her eyes, a habit she’s starting to pick up more and more. “I wasn’t upset about the _gas_ , Bec,” she says. “I was more worried about you driving while angry.”

Beca shrugs, not making eye contact. “Yeah, well. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

With a small sigh, Chloe lets the issue drop. The last thing Beca needs from her right now is a lecture on safe driving.

Besides, what Beca says next shoves everything else from Chloe’s mind.

“She asked if I was ever molested. If that made me like women.” Beca’s voice is quiet, but Chloe doesn’t miss the disgust and anger in it.

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah.”

Chloe stares at the opposite wall in shock, utterly appalled that Sheila – that anyone – would say that to someone, much less their own step-daughter.

“I – I don’t even –” Chloe stammers. “I’m so, _so_ sorry. That’s –”

“She’s _horrible_ ,” Beca supplies in a whisper.

“I know, babe,” Chloe says, wishing she could say or do something to make the situation somehow better. “I know. I’m sorry. She was wrong to say that. That’s – it’s not how that works.”

“Yeah.”

“Did… I mean, did your dad try to –”

“He just sat there,” Beca says icily, her frown deepening. “He didn’t – he actually expected me to answer that bitch.”

“I…” Chloe trails off helplessly.

“Besides, he couldn’t have done anything,” Beca runs her hands through her hair in frustration. “There’s nothing that he – Sheila, she’s just like that, there’s not really anything – but still, he just sat there!” Beca finishes with a wordless snarl.

Chloe doesn’t know what to say. She’s never felt so useless.

After a long moment, Beca shakes her head and takes a quick breath. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she says, but not harshly.

“Okay, we don’t have to,” Chloe says softly.

She’s stunned. To have to go to what should have been a civil dinner and be asked questions like _that_ … Chloe’s sure there’s more Beca didn’t repeat, other terrible things that had been said, but she doesn’t want to push Beca into telling her. With a sinking feeling, Chloe guesses they probably had to do with her.

She has half a mind to hunt down Sheila and tell her how wrong she is, and maybe show her that what she and Beca have isn’t something to be afraid of. It’s the only thing that makes sense; Sheila must be ignorant, that’s all. Surely, she can’t be that inherently hateful – no one can be, right? Sheila just doesn’t understand. If Chloe could somehow show her, make her understand, maybe things would be different.

“What did you have planned?” Beca’s question breaks through Chloe’s musings.

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said you had a plan. For us.”

“Oh,” Chloe blinks at the reminder. Somehow, something as lighthearted as Nerf guns doesn’t quite seem appropriate anymore. “I mean, I did, but now –”

“Chlo, please?”

“I – okay, I’d thought maybe we could play with these Nerf guns?”

Beca blinks at her in confusion, then twists around to see the toys behind her on the bed. “I wondered why these were here…” she trails off, the hint of smile playing around her lips.

“Or, you know, I could give you a – a back rub instead?” Chloe tries, desperate to salvage the evening somehow. “I’ve been reading up on some techniques, and I thought maybe it would be nice to try it?”

“You’d planned a date with a Nerf war and a backrub?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Chloe admits with a shy shrug. “Okay, I guess when you say it like that –”

“I love you.”

Everything stops.

“What?” Chloe chokes out.

Chloe gapes at Beca, positive she must have heard wrong, certain she must be dreaming, because this moment can’t be happening. She must be imagining it, that’s the only explanation, because there’s no way, no possibility, that after all this time, Beca Mitchell would be sitting on her bed and saying –

“I love you,” Beca repeats, and Chloe then knows for sure she’s be dreaming because Beca suddenly looks nervous and scared, as if there’s any way Chloe could feel any differently. “And you don’t have to say it back. I know it’s probably way too soon. Really, we haven’t been – you know – um, dating all that long and... I just – I realized it today. Or, I mean, maybe I’ve known for a while, but, um, I’m kind of in love with you,” Beca finishes in a rush, her cheeks tingeing pink even as she meets Chloe’s eyes steadily.

“Then we have a problem,” Chloe manages.

“W-why?” Beca’s eyes widen.

“Because I’m in love with you, too.”

For a second, she thinks Beca’s eyes are actually going to pop out of her head.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Chloe smiles, more sure about this than she has been about anything in her life. “I love you, too.”

With a bright laugh, Beca flings herself forward to crash their lips together. It’s a little over-enthusiastic and their teeth clack, but Chloe doesn’t mind. She pulls Beca closer, immediately weaving her fingers through dark tresses to hold her in place. Beca’s lips are soft but relentless, and almost instantly, Chloe feels Beca’s tongue tracing over her lips. She parts them, and Beca licks into her mouth, more needy and desperate than Chloe has ever felt her.

Chloe can’t stop the low groan from tumbling from her chest, only for Beca to echo it with a whimper a moment later. One of Beca’s hands pushes at her shoulder gently and she shifts, and Chloe gets the message. She reclines, and Beca follows, until Chloe’s flat on her back on the mattress with Beca hovering over her, half on top of her and half to the side.

Kissing Beca like this is… different. Chloe feels every single point of contact between them acutely, every inch where Beca’s body presses against the length of her own. Her hands fly to Beca’s back, fingers tracing over the material of her shirt, catching on the line her bra strap creates halfway up. Beca rests on a forearm, but her other hand smooths up and down Chloe’s side, from her hip and almost reaching to her breast.

Beca breaks away from the kiss, her mouth descending on Chloe’s neck without warning. It tears a gasp from Chloe’s throat and has her back arching up, pushing her even more into Beca. Beca leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses in a trail, moving from under her jaw, down her neck, and then back up to flick her tongue over Chloe’s pulse point.

Chloe whimpers at the contact there, unexpectedly sensitive, and she feels Beca hesitate above her.

“Can I…”

“Yes,” Chloe agrees instantly, tilting her head and exposing her neck to give Beca more room to work.

She keens when Beca reattaches her mouth, sucking the skin into her mouth and grazing it lightly with her teeth. She releases it with a hum of satisfaction, soothing the sting with her tongue and lips. The thrill of being marked, of Beca claiming her, sends a primal rush of pleasure coiling low in Chloe’s gut. Her body rolls under Beca’s and instantly, Beca’s mouth is back on her own.

Chloe’s hands scrabble at Beca’s back, trying in vain to pull her closer, ever closer, until, with a huff of impatience, they ghost under the material of Beca’s shirt, seeking out soft, warm skin.

Above her, Beca shivers at the touch, groaning into the kiss and turning it heated and deep. The sound of Beca’s pleasure pulls on Chloe like a magnet, raising her back off the bed yet again. Beca’s hand on her side stutters in its path, reversing until Chloe feels fingers tracing at the hem of the shirt, dipping just under to brush low on her stomach.

Chloe slows down the kiss, taking control of it even though Beca’s the one on top, and eases back. “You can touch me,” she whispers against Beca’s lips, digging her nails lightly into her back for emphasis.

Beca’s breath leaves her in a whoosh and her hand slides up, drawing a path of fire up Chloe’s twitching stomach and wrapping around her ribcage. Chloe sinks back into the mattress, chest heaving as she waits desperately for Beca’s touch. She feels when Beca’s fingers nudge the underside of her bra, can hear Beca’s breath catch in her throat. Beca teases, her fingers moving sideways along the strap without venturing higher. From somewhere far in the distance, Chloe hears a faint buzzing noise, the sound of a phone on vibrate, but she ignores it, as does Beca.

Chloe arches, desperate to get Beca’s hand higher. Beca chuckles and finally, finally moves her hand up. The slightest hint of pressure brushing over Chloe’s right breast through her bra sends a hot bolt of desire direct to her center and her mouth falls open, and then Beca does it again, and again, until finally Beca’s entire hand lands on her, cupping her delicately.

A ragged groan tears free from Chloe’s throat and before she knows what she’s doing, she’s tugging at the back of Beca’s shirt, trying to yank it off; Beca sits up abruptly, the sudden lack of contact making Chloe gasp in surprise, but then Beca’s reaching down and crossing her arms and lifting her shirt up. Chloe can only stare as Beca reveals first the porcelain skin of her stomach, then a simple black bra stark against perfect cleavage, then the shirt comes completely off over her head. She drops it to the side of the bed, a question in her eyes.

Instantly, Chloe’s struggling upright too, lifting her shirt, Beca’s hands helping her, guiding her, until her own shirt joins Beca’s on the floor. Beca’s eyes drop to her chest, and Chloe momentarily feels self-conscious; she’s in a blue bra, nothing fancy, and she’ll _definitely_ have to make a trip to the lingerie store first thing in the morning, but then Beca’s leaning forward and Chloe’s falling back to again land flat on the mattress.

This time, Beca doesn’t hesitate.

A hand finds her instantly, palming and kneading and circling through the thin material of her bra, each pass tightening the knot low in Chloe’s stomach and sending a fresh wave of heat crashing between her legs. Feeling Beca’s bare stomach against her own is simultaneously too much and not enough, and her senses launch into overdrive as Beca’s tongue again slips between her lips.

The need to touch Beca appears, as strong as the need for air, and instantly, Chloe’s hands trail from Beca’s back down around her sides. Beca, realizing what she wants, pulls back just enough, resting her forehead against Chloe’s to create the space Chloe’s hands need to slide around Beca’s ribs and land on her breasts.

They both groan at the touch, but Beca is louder. Swollen lip drawn between her teeth, Chloe, using the gentlest pressure she can muster, squeezes.

Three things happen.

Beca swears and shifts on top of her, her thigh landing between both of Chloe’s to _press_.

Sparks ignite in Chloe’s belly and she’s hit with a bolt of arousal so strong it’s almost painful.

Images flash behind Chloe’s eyes in a series, thoughts of reaching down and unbuttoning Beca’s jeans, then taking them off her or just sliding a hand inside, flare across her mind like stars shooting through the sky. In that moment, she can imagine it, how their bodies would twist together, moving with purpose, edging closer and closer to the brink.

She wants that, more than anything. She wants Beca.

“Stop. We need to stop.”

Beca freezes above her, the hand on her breast immediately retreating down to rest just above her hip.

“I –” Beca has to stop, moisten her lips. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chloe laughs, a breathless huff, and her hands drop away from Beca’s chest to rest, fingers interlaced, over her own stomach.

“No, you really, really didn’t,” she breathes, watching the anxiety melt from Beca’s expression. “Just. If we don’t stop now… well,” she half-shrugs. “We should talk about _that_ , first.”

“Oh.” Beca’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. “Oh. Yes, we, uh, we should. Talk, first.”

She sits back, moving off of Chloe, reclaiming her leg from between her thighs. Chloe misses the touch even as she breathes deeply, trying to calm herself. Beca looks down at the floor, then reaches and collects their discarded shirts, handing Chloe hers with a slightly awkward smile.

As Chloe pulls her shirt back on, she tries to quell her sudden worry. The old flash of unease resurfaces for the first time in weeks, the fear of objectifying Beca inappropriately returning for a horrible second until she reminds herself that this is okay, that she and Beca are together, that they both consented to go that far and – almost – further.

“It’s okay,” Beca says, and Chloe looks at her in surprise until Beca continues. “It’s okay. Don’t feel bad about stopping.”

Once she realizes that Beca hasn’t, in fact, read her mind, Chloe smiles and nods, her unease vanishing as quickly as it had come. It’s okay. She’s not a bad person for wanting to be with her girlfriend.

“Um, did your phone…?” Chloe asks, remembering the buzzing from earlier.

“Oh, shit, yeah, hang on,” Beca says, reaching behind herself to tug her phone from her back pocket.

While Beca checks her phone, Chloe straightens out her shirt, tugging it back into place. From downstairs, she can still hear the distant voices of the other Bellas. It makes her blush, wondering if they’d heard any of the sounds she and Beca had been making. They hadn’t exactly been quiet…

Beca’s snort of disgust startles her. Beca lowers her phone from her ear, a sour expression on her face.

“It was my dad,” she explains. “He called, left a text apologizing for Sheila at dinner. He says she didn’t mean it, and… and they’ve invited us for dinner this weekend. Both of us,” she emphasizes, looking disgusted.

“They… really?”

“Yeah. He says they want to get to know you more.”

Chloe remains silent, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. If they could do this… if she could just show them it’s okay… if Sheila could see how happy she and Beca make each other…

Beca’s still talking. “... and really, I don’t know where they get off thinking I’d put you in that situation after all the shit –”

“Why not?”

“– they put me through, I really – what?” Beca stops mid-rant, staring at Chloe like she’s suddenly stopped speaking English.

“We could try it?” Chloe suggests mildly, fingers toying with the bedspread.

“Chloe,” Beca says, her tone careful. “Are you insane? Didn’t you hear what that monster asked me?”

Chloe winces, but stands her ground. “I know what Sheila said, and it’s – it’s awful.”

“It is!” Beca gestures widely, staring at her uncomprehendingly. “So why on earth do you want to see them?”

“I don’t want you to not have your family because of me.”

Beca draws up short, blinking several times before pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger.

“I… appreciate that,” she says slowly, “but you – the Bellas – this is my family. I don’t need anything else.”

The raw honesty in Beca’s voice tears at Chloe, making her think of the rapidly-approaching lease-end date. The realization that in less than a month, the Bellas will be going their separate ways sends pain flaring through Chloe’s chest, but she knows now isn’t the time to bring that up.

“Look,” she says instead, “you said your dad was okay with us. Maybe if we give them some time to cool off, talk it over…”

Beca’s already shaking her head. Chloe scoots closer, taking one of her hands and pulling it into her lap.

“Please, Beca. I think, if they see how happy we make each other, you know, I think it’ll be different.”

“Chloe…”

“Please? I really think that we can show Sheila how it’s okay. I think we could try.”

Beca looks at her, expression unreadable. Chloe doesn’t push further, merely letting the idea hang between them for Beca to consider. With a sigh, Beca runs her tongue over the front of her teeth and closes her eyes.

“I… okay,” she finally agrees, “but if they’re rude –”

“We’ll leave and that’ll be that,” Chloe promises.

“Fine,” Beca says, reopening her eyes. “We’ll try it. I don’t like it, and I’m worried about it, but we can try.”

“Thank you,” Chloe says sincerely.

“Yeah, yeah. Also, I thought this date was going to come with a backrub?”

Chloe grins.

* * *

If the Bellas downstairs hadn’t heard noises of their earlier activities, Chloe had no doubt whatsoever that they’d heard almost every second of Beca’s backrub.

“God, you’re loud,” she laughs, lifting herself from where she’d been seated on the backs of Beca’s thighs.

“Well, dude,” Beca says, rolling from her stomach to her back to grin up at Chloe, “not my fault you give great backrubs.”

Chloe hums in acknowledgement, stretching out her hands. Just as she’s about to tease Beca more, there’s a knock at the door.

“Are you two done boning yet?” Amy’s voice sounds through the wood. “Some of us actually want to sleep.”

“Or join in!” Stacie’s voice adds.

“Go away, you pervs!” Beca calls back.

The door is flung wide with a bang and a horde of Bellas spills into the room, Stacie in the lead with her phone raised hopefully. Beca shrieks and flinches back from the camera, even though there’s really nothing to hide.

“Damn, I missed it,” Stacie says, disappointed, putting her phone back into a pocket. Then she grins at Chloe. “Nice hickey.”

Chloe just laughs while Beca sputters wordlessly behind her. “Thanks,” she says, touching the bruise Beca left on her neck. “And you didn’t miss anything. I was just giving Beca a backrub.”

Skeptical silence meets her words, Flo and Jessica exchanging a look with eyebrows raised. Cynthia Rose covers her smile with a raised hand as Emily elbows her in the ribs. Amy coughs unconvincingly and says clearly, “Slut.”

“Oh my god,” Beca groans, her head flopping back onto the mattress. “Do you want something?”

“Yeah,” Cynthia Rose says, “we wanted to see why you flipped your shit earlier.”

“That was aca-scary,” Emily nods, eyes wide.

Chloe shifts uncomfortably on the bed, not knowing if Beca wants to share. To her surprise, though, Beca merely tosses an arm over her eyes and sighs.

“The step-monster was being monstrous,” she says. “Found out about Chloe and I.”

“Chloe and me,” Stacie corrects, then frowns. “That’s a tough one.”

Cynthia Rose nods. “Yeah, that’ll happen, B. Ugh, I’m sorry. The best thing to do is pick yourself up and not give a flying fu –”

“I can butcher a cow in seven different ways,” Lilly whispers, appearing out of nowhere beside Jessica, who jumps back in horror.

“In my country, she would be exiled to the dogs,” says Flo with a firm nod.

“Forget her,” Emily says bracingly. “We’re your family. We’re sisters. We’ve got this, together.”

“Yeah, uh,” Amy says, “that’s actually something smart coming from Legacy’s dumb mouth. We’ll support your lesbian activity, but… keep it contained, yeah?”

“Oh, whatever,” Beca snaps, but Chloe can see she’s smiling. “Like you and Bumper ever ‘keep it contained’ when you have –”

“Stop!” Emily cuts her off, hands over her ears. “I don’t want this!”

“Bumper, what?” Amy asks loudly, looking around. “Um. Ummmm.”

“Uh huh,” Chloe says, staring hard at Amy. “We all saw you paddle across that lake. If you get to make fun of us, we get to –”

“Listen, nature calls,” Amy says loudly to several displeased groans. “I should go.”

With that, she turns and makes her exit from Chloe’s room, Emily plugging her nose just in case.

“Yeah, since you two aren’t actively having sex right now, I guess I’ll go, too,” Stacie sighs.

“You’re actually disappointed,” Jessica stares at her in amazement.

“Eh,” Stacie shrugs, then turns and leaves the room, humming a song that sounds suspiciously like “Problem.”

Gradually, the others trickle out after her, Emily waving goodbye, until Cynthia Rose is left. She looks pityingly at Beca, who is still lying on the bed.

“That bites, seriously,” she says. “But you gotta focus on the good. Like us, and your girlfriend, and hey, maybe she’ll come around eventually.”

Beca grunts in acknowledgment, propping herself up to look at Cynthia Rose. For a moment, Chloe feels as if she’s intruding, but it’s not like she can really go anywhere.

Beca stares at Cynthia Rose for a second, lips pursed, then sighs. “Yeah, I hope you’re right. Thanks, dude.”

“Anytime,” Cynthia Rose nods. “And if you aca-bitches are done keeping me awake, I’m gonna go.”

With that, she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

“That was a lot,” Beca says immediately.

“They wanted to check in,” Chloe replies, stifling a yawn.

Beca frowns at her. “Are you tired?”

“Kinda,” Chloe admits, “but if you want to talk more, we can.”

“No, I’m okay,” Beca shakes her head. “It’s been kind of a long day. Should probably get some sleep.”

She stands from the bed, stretching. A strange feeling comes over Chloe, and suddenly, she can’t stand the thought of spending the night alone.

“Wait, can you stay?” she blurts right as Beca leans to kiss her goodnight. “Please? Just to sleep,” she clarifies when Beca hesitates.

Beca looks at her curiously, but says, “Yeah, I can. Um, can I brush my teeth first?”

Chloe agrees, and, with a quick peck on the lips, Beca leaves the room to get ready for bed.  Excited at the idea of spending the night with Beca, Chloe picks up her own bathroom caddy and heads down the hall to brush her teeth and remove her makeup.

Back in her room, she starts to undress, then hesitates; sleeping in the nude, though it’s what she normally does, might not be the best tonight. Frowning a little, she goes to her dresser and digs through it, searching for something comfy to sleep in.

She eventually finds a pair of short shorts and changes into them, pulling a tank top over her head and deciding to leave her bra on. Moving the Nerf guns off the bed – maybe they’ll use them tomorrow – she climbs into bed and gets comfortable under the sheets. She only has to scroll through her Twitter for a few minutes until Beca’s characteristic double knock sounds on the door.

“Come in,” she calls, plugging in her phone and putting it face-down on her nightstand.

“You decent?” Beca asks cautiously, only easing the door open a crack. “Jessica warned me…”

Chloe laughs and calls back, “Yes, I’m actually wearing clothes. Your eyes are safe.”

Beca opens the door and slides in, closing it again behind her. Chloe has time to appreciate her simple (and very short) blue shorts and oversized black T-shirt before Beca flicks off the light and moves toward the bed.

“Very sexy,” Chloe grins, though Beca probably can’t see her in the darkness.

“Yeah, well,” Beca huffs, pulling back Chloe’s covers and sliding under them. “Remind me to go shopping tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” Chloe hums, sliding in close behind Beca and wrapping her arms around her waist. “I had the same thought earlier.”

Beca’s breath catches audibly and Chloe smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. Beca melts back into her with a quiet hum of contentment, and Chloe tangles their legs together. After so many years of dreaming about this, having Beca in her bed like this, even for just sleep, is amazing. They’ve shared a bed before, but never while dating, so being able to hold Beca like this is everything.

“So,” Beca speaks into the darkness of the room, the vibrations of her voice traveling through Chloe’s body where they’re pressed together. “Earlier, you said we should talk about… um. You know.”

Chloe has to think for a moment, not sure what Beca’s getting at. When she realizes, though, she has to hold back a giggle at Beca’s inability to say the word. “You mean sex?”

“Yeah, uh, that,” Beca replies, her voice higher-pitched than normal, and Chloe takes pity on her.

“Do you want to talk about that… now?” she asks.

“Um, yeah, I guess, if you’re down?”

“Sure,” Chloe agrees easily, then, figuring it might be easier for her to go first, starts, “Well, sex… it’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately. With… you.”

“Yeah?” Beca sounds surprised, but pleased.

Chloe wishes she could see Beca’s face, but realizes that’s probably why Beca chose this moment to talk about it, when they’re spooning in almost complete darkness.

“Yeah. Does that… is that okay?” Chloe asks, a little nervously, when Beca doesn’t say anything else.

“Yeah, of course,” Beca replies instantly, reassuring Chloe. “It’s just. Uh, different.”

“Different how?” Chloe whispers into Beca’s shoulder.

“Um. Because it’s… you? I guess? And I’ve never… with a girl.”

“I’ve never with a girl either.”

“Really?”

Chloe almost wants to snort at the surprise in Beca’s voice.

“Really,” she answers. “I’ve dated girls, yeah, but never… I was waiting, I guess.”

She stops herself before she accidentally says who she was waiting for, but by the way Beca doesn’t say anything and leans back against her even more, she imagines Beca gets it.

“I don’t want to rush you,” Chloe says. “I know you wanted to wait with – with Jesse.”

Beca shifts in Chloe’s arms, rolling until they face each other. In the dimness of the room, Chloe can’t really make out her features, but she can see the faint outline of Beca’s profile. Beca’s hand lifts, moving Chloe’s hair back gently, almost absentmindedly.

“With Jesse…” she starts, “it was just different. I never really thought about it – sex – with him. I’ve thought about it with you, though,” she adds a little shyly.

Chloe’s stomach flips so hard she’s amazed the whole bed doesn’t flip with her.

“Chloe?”

“Yeah, that’s… good,” Chloe clears her throat. “Of course. That’s really – that’s great. I just. Um. I don’t want this to be, like, deadline-sensitive, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, with the end of the lease,” she says gently, feeling Beca stiffen. “I don’t want us to rush it, I want it to just…”

“Happen,” Beca finishes in a sigh.

“Yeah.”

“When we’re both ready.”

“Right.”

Beca’s quiet for a long time after that, until Chloe wonders if she’s fallen asleep. But then, the mattress dips and Beca scoots closer, winding her arm around Chloe’s waist and nudging their noses together.

“What if I’m ready now?”

Chloe’s heart almost bursts out of her chest, but then Beca smiles against her lips and she realizes she’d only been joking.

With a smile of her own, Chloe presses a light kiss to Beca’s lips. “Go to sleep, weirdo,” she whispers affectionately.

“As you wish,” Beca replies, though whether she knows she’s quoting Chloe’s favorite movie or not is unclear. She turns again so her back is to Chloe’s front. Chloe snuggles close to Beca, inhaling the soft scent of her body lotion.

“I love you,” she whispers, feeling a small shiver run through Beca at the words.

“I love you, too,” Beca replies with a yawn. “And… soon?”

“Soon,” Chloe promises, and then she’s drifting to sleep with Beca in her arms.


	17. Chapter 17 - Chloe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Explicit depictions of homophobia, hate language, and accusations of assault. This may be a very difficult chapter to read.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Like, completely, totally sure?”

“Yes, Bec. We’re already here.”

It’s not like they can really leave. Beca’s already parked in the driveway, and Chloe can spot Warren peeking out the window at them. Chloe waves at him, doing her best to ignore the nerves rolling in her stomach.

From the driver’s seat, Beca doesn’t wave. Chloe glances over and winces at the white-knuckle grip Beca has on the steering wheel.

“Bec…”

“I just…” Beca sighs and looks over, her eyes wide and sincere. “If you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell me – a signal, or – or something, and we’ll leave.”

It occurs to Chloe then that Beca isn’t worried about this dinner for her own sake.

“I will,” Chloe promises, watching Beca’s grip on the wheel relax. “Do we need a code word?”

She’s mostly joking, but Beca’s expression clears and she turns to Chloe seriously.

“Smart, I like that,” Beca says. She leans back into her seat, bringing a hand to her chin in thought. “Um. Okay. Let’s see. Snorkel?”

“What? In what context would that come up?”

“I – fine. Uh, Titanium?”

The corners of Chloe’s lips twitch upward. That’s a good one. But…

“Eh…” she shrugs. “It has to be something that we might actually say in normal conversation.”

“Oh, but – fine,” Beca says as she burrows further back into her seat and crosses her arms. The crease between her brows deepens, and Chloe can almost hear her mind whirring. She knows what Beca’s doing, but they can only put off the inevitable for so long, especially considering Warren has clearly already seen them.

“Pineapple?” Beca suggests suddenly.

Chloe twists against her seat belt, staring hard at Beca, searching for any sign she’s joking. Beca stares back, her expression neutral.

“Pineapple?” Chloe asks. She has to confirm.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite fruit,” Beca replies with complete sincerity.

Chloe raises her eyebrows.

“Good to know,” she mutters, mostly to herself.

“What?”

“Pineapple it is, then!” Chloe agrees, ignoring Beca’s question. “So that’s settled.”

“Right,” Beca says bracingly. She takes a deep, hopefully calming breath, then looks sideways at Chloe. “Let’s do this.”

Chloe reaches out to touch the back of Beca’s hand, trying to reassure her. “They said they’d try, Beca. That counts for something.”

Beca nods, her lips drawn into a thin line. She gives Chloe one last strained-looking smile, then unbuckles her seat belt and steps out of the car.

Chloe follows, only a second behind, and meets Beca at the front of the car to walk down the sidewalk together. Beca’s hands ball into fists at her sides, then relax, then ball up again in anxious rhythm. It makes Chloe uneasy, too, and her hand reflexively twitches toward Beca’s. She catches herself in time, though, deciding that it might be better to keep physical affection to a minimum.

They reach the plain front door, and Beca raises a fist to rap smartly on it. As soon as she’s done, her hand drops to envelop Chloe’s. Chloe glances over, surprised.

Beca’s already grinning crookedly at her. “You make me happy. If they don’t accept that, it’s their problem.”

Chloe’s heart melts, but before she can respond, the door swings open and Warren greets them with a large, slightly manic smile.

“Hi Beca, Chloe, thanks for coming out!” he greets enthusiastically.

Chloe flinches a little at the phrasing, and there’s an awkward silence. Warren’s eyes drop to their intertwined hands, and his expression freezes momentarily. His right eye twitches.

“Thank you for the invite,” Chloe manages as graciously as she can. If they’re going to fault her for anything, it won’t be her manners.

“Of course,” Warren beams, his attention diverted from their joined hands. “Come on inside.”

He stands aside, gesturing into the house. Beca takes the lead, stepping over the threshold with one final glance at Chloe, who smiles in a way she hopes is reassuring. Beca drops her hand and removes her shoes in the entryway, so Chloe mimics her. Once her shoes are off, Chloe closes the door behind her, ignoring the trapped feeling that suddenly constricts her chest.

Sheila isn’t there to greet them, but Chloe can hear a clattering of pots and pans from deeper within the house.

“So, come on in to the living room,” Warren leads the way deeper into the house. “Sheila’s just got dinner cooking.”

Beca pulls a face that Warren, thankfully, doesn’t see. “No takeout?”

“No, she wanted to make this special, Beca.”

Beca glances at Chloe, giving her a significant look as they enter the main sitting room. “Don’t eat until you see Sheila take the first bite,” she warns in an undertone.

Chloe shushes her with a roll of her eyes.

Warren sits down heavily on an armchair, waving at the adjacent couch to indicate that they should join him. The television is already on, playing _Die Hard_ , but Warren turns the volume down while they settle. Beca plops herself in the corner of the couch, and Chloe sits next to her, careful to keep a sizeable gap between them. Beca glances at her but doesn’t say anything.

On the TV, Bruce Willis stares seriously at the camera.

“So…” Beca’s dad clears his throat and shifts in the armchair. “How’re things going, then?

“The usual,” Beca replies, her eyes on the TV.

“Yeah, good,” Chloe says to Warren, desperate to hold some kind of conversation, even if it’s mundane.

“Good, good. Both applying for jobs?”

Chloe nods, seeing Beca do the same out of the corner of her eye.

The sound of clattering pans gets louder from within the house. Beca tenses beside her.

“Yeah, Beca’s told me a lot about her own job search,” Warren says, glancing between them and the TV. “What about yours, Chloe?”

“Um, not bad,” Chloe starts, and tells him about applying for various animal medicine internships around the country. As she talks, she feels Beca’s eyes on the side of her face.

“Interesting, interesting,” Warren muses once she’s finished. “I thought you’d wanted to be a teacher?”

“I thought vet school would be more my speed.”

Warren nods sagely, falling silent. This time when his eyes drift to the TV, they stay there.

The distinct sound of a refrigerator door opening, and of someone rifling around inside, reaches Chloe’s ears. She glances at Beca, who’s already looking at her.

“Maybe I should offer –”

“No. She’s fine,” Beca says sharply.

Warren glances over, frowning lightly.

“So, what cities are you looking into again?” he asks, though Chloe had already told him when she’d been talking about the internships.

“Um, New York, Nashville –”

This time, there’s a huge, clattering bang from within the house, as if Sheila had dropped a cookie sheet. Beca starts at the sound, glaring in the direction of the kitchen.

“You know what, I’m going to offer to help,” Chloe says, rising from the couch.

“Chlo –”

“It’s fine,” she says, hoping she seems more confident than she feels.

“Let her go, Beca,” Warren says tiredly.

Beca’s eyes, suddenly harsh, lock onto him.

Chloe leaves them there, not wanting to see that argument, and heads toward the commotion. She follows the sound to the large kitchen, where Sheila stands at the stove with her back to her, preparing something with tomato sauce.

It’s hard for Chloe to imagine that this is the woman who’d asked if Beca was molested.

*******************

_“So, are you seeing anyone?” Chloe’s mom, Cheryl, asks before taking a sip from her hot chocolate._

_“Mom,” Chloe sighs affectionately, her eyes darting to where her dad and brother play Mario Kart in the other room. “You know I’m not. I’m gonna focus on school.”_

_Grinning mischievously, Cheryl leans forward and replies, “I know that’s what you said after Tom, but honey, it’s been six months. That’s a long time for you.”_

_Chloe glances down at her own hot chocolate resting on the table in front of her. Soft Christmas music floats over the kitchen, filling the brief silence between her and her mom._

_“What does that say about me?” Chloe finally asks, looking up with a small smile._

_Cheryl’s eyebrows lift. “Nothing, Chloe, nothing! You’re not – look, you just have a lot of love to give, and normally you don’t hold back for this long.”_

_“I know,” Chloe smiles, reaching to brush her fingers over the back of her mom’s hand. “It’s just that with the new Bellas and – and, well, with Aubrey being so stressed after last year, there’s not really time to…” she trails off, caught under Cheryl’s knowing look._

_“Who are they?” Cheryl asks with another sip from her mug._

_Chloe doesn’t quite manage to keep the grin off her face as she replies grudgingly, “Fine. There is this… one girl. She’s a new Bella.”_

_“What’s her name?”_

_“Beca,” Chloe replies, her smile widening further. “Beca Mitchell.”_

_“That’s a nice name.”_

_Chloe nods. “It suits her.”_

_“She’s nice?” Cheryl asks playfully, digging a bit further._

_“She is, yeah,” Chloe says, stirring her hot chocolate for something to do with her hands. “She’s quiet, a little… hard to get to know? But I can tell she’s kind. And really pretty. I think she feels more than she lets on, too.”_

_“Mmm, the best people feel the most,” Cheryl says with a wink. “You always did.”_

_“Yeah, well, that’s great and all, but there’s a problem,” Chloe replies, her mood darkening. “I’m pretty sure she’s straight, and she hangs out with some guy a lot. A Treble.”_

_Cheryl sits back in her chair, looking at Chloe thoughtfully. In the other room, the game – a gift Chris had unwrapped that morning – grows louder._

_“Is she the one you’re always daydreaming about?” Cheryl asks after a moment._

_“Uh…” Chloe blinks, again finding herself caught; her mom knows her too well._

_“Honey, you’ve been staring off into space all break so far, and it was the same over Thanksgiving. I know you’re thinking about someone special. Is it her?”_

_“It’s – yeah,” Chloe admits with an embarrassed huff. “I guess I think about her a lot.”_

_Cheryl smiles and rises from the table, taking her hot chocolate with her. “Well, she sounds pretty special, straight or not. And you never know, maybe one day…” she trails off, letting the sentence hang. “Don’t give up on the special ones,” she says, then gestures to the sitting room. “Wanna join Chris and your dad?”_

_Grateful, and feeling marginally better, Chloe stands from the table as well. “Yeah, let’s do it. And thanks,” she adds._

_“Anytime, honey,” Cheryl says, drawing Chloe in for a quick, one-armed hug and peck on the top of her head. “And keep me posted.”_

_“I will,” Chloe promises. “But first, I’m gonna beat all of you on Rainbow Road.”_

_“In your dreams!” Chris calls out as Chloe and Cheryl walk into the sitting room to play the game._

*******************

Not wanting to startle Sheila, Chloe makes her next steps into the kitchen heavier than she normally would. “Hi, Sheila,” she greets when Sheila twists around. “How are you?”

“Oh, good, Chloe, you?” Sheila replies with a thin-lipped smile.

It’s not much, but it still encourages Chloe to move further into the kitchen. She reminds herself that she’s met Sheila before, and they’ve always gotten along well.

“Can I help with dinner at all?” she asks, standing at the counter next to Sheila.

Sheila looks up in surprise, taking a step to the side and away from Chloe. “Oh,” she says, “that’s – that’s nice of you, thank you. It’s nothing fancy, just a pasta bake, some veggies.”

Chloe looks down at the large ceramic bowl set out on the counter in front of them, into which Sheila has poured cooked pasta, mushrooms, onions, and the tomato sauce.

“Okay, is there something you’d like me to do?”

“Uh –” Sheila looks around the kitchen, not quite meeting Chloe’s eyes. “Would you like to chop some veggies and spin the salads while I pop the pasta in the oven?”

“For sure,” Chloe agrees amicably, moving over to give herself more counter space.

Sheila goes to the fridge, pulling out carrots and celery, along with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and some cucumber for a salad. She sets the produce on the counter in front of Chloe without a word, then pulls out a chopping board out and a knife, placing them on the counter as well.

“Um, thanks,” Chloe says, reaching for the board and knife to move it in front of her. Sheila doesn’t reply, and still won’t quite look her in the eyes.

Chloe clenches her jaw and starts cutting up the carrots and celery. She’s very aware of the way Sheila stands next to her at the counter, posture ramrod straight and keeping a careful distance between them. They work in silence, Sheila adding cheese to the top of the pasta and Chloe continuing to chop until she has a healthy pile of veggies in front of her. She looks around, spotting a tray waiting on the counter, a little beyond where Sheila works. She reaches for it, having to stretch in front of Sheila.

Even as she reaches, Sheila backs away, recoiling from her. Chloe doesn’t allow herself to react, only grabs the tray and starts transferring the cut-up vegetables to it. She tells herself she’s imagining things, surely, but then Sheila inches farther away, nudging the salad spinner toward her so they never have to touch.

The muscles in Chloe’s back tense.

Sheila turns, putting the pasta into the oven and starting a timer for seven minutes. As she does, Chloe loads the lettuce and tomatoes into the salad spinner and moves to the sink. She runs water into the spinner and starts the it, while behind her, Sheila takes her place at the chopping block. A drawer opens, and Chloe risks a glance back; Sheila has pulled out a different knife to slice the cucumber, choosing to dirty another dish rather than touch something Chloe used.

Chloe spins the salad. She swallows, hard, and counts to ten silently.

“So…” Sheila starts, her voice mild. “You and Beca… that’s pretty serious?”

Chloe hesitates, unsure how to respond. She keeps her back to Sheila, using the salad spinner as an excuse. Eventually, she decides that honesty, while probably not what Sheila wants to hear, is the best policy.

“Yeah, it is. I love her.”

The knife, chopping against the cutting board, pauses.

“She – she said something similar.”

Despite the chill in Sheila’s voice, a soft glow fills Chloe’s chest at that; Beca loves her, and she loves Beca.

“You know, dear…” Sheila continues, her voice turning falsely sweet. “At such a young age… it’s easy to be confused about what love is.”

Chloe’s hands twitch against the salad spinner. She grips it more tightly.

“It’s easy to be confused about a lot, actually,” Sheila adds.

Chloe turns, salad in hand, and returns to the counter. She and Sheila stand side-by-side, both pretending to be focused on the salad.

“We’re not confused,” Chloe says, struggling to keep her tone neutral as she divides the lettuce and tomatoes into four separate bowls.

“Well. _You_ might not be.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying, before this summer, Beca never showed a – well, a preference for _that_... lifestyle.”

Chloe remains silent. She doesn’t know what to say.

“It just makes me wonder how influential you may have been in that decision.”

“It’s not a decision,” Chloe blurts, hearing the annoyance in her own voice.

“It seems like it is,” Sheila says, now adding cucumber slices to each of the salads. “She made the decision to end a long-term with a good, respectable boy and start one with... you.”

“Beca –”

“She was going to live with him, you know.”

“Yeah, I – I know.” Chloe knows perfectly well.

“And then she just up and changed her mind, huh?”

“Well, I mean –”

Sheila slams her hands down onto the counter, startling Chloe and making the salad bowls rattle. “Did you ask her to break up with Jesse?”

Chloe flinches away. “N-No, I –”

“What’s going on?”

Beca appears in the doorway to the kitchen, lips thin and eyes like thunder.

The tension leaves Chloe’s body instantly. Beca glances at her, her gaze softening as Chloe meets her eyes: _I’m okay. It’s okay._

“Chloe’s been helping with dinner,” Sheila replies swiftly. “Just some girl talk.”

Beca moves around the counter, sliding herself between Chloe and Sheila so that her back is to Chloe. She extends a hand behind herself briefly, and Chloe brushes their fingers together, trying to reassure her.

“About my ex-boyfriend?” Beca’s voice is low and dangerous.

“It’s okay,” Chloe whispers, but it’s like Beca doesn’t even hear her.

Sheila waves a hand with a fake, simpering laugh. “Oh, well, we were just –”

“Sheila, if you can’t manage to –”

The oven buzzer goes off loudly, interrupting Beca and startling them all.

“Dinner!” Warren calls out, walking into the kitchen, his expression anxious as he takes in the tension in the room. “Great timing! I’m, uh, starving.”

Sheila bustles to the oven, pulling a pair of oven mitts from the drawer next to it. As she goes, Beca turns to Chloe and leans in close under pretext of examining the salads.

“Is there any fruit with dinner?” she asks, her voice laced with meaning.

Chloe knows what she’s asking. They could leave now, claim some Bella emergency, or even just leave without bothering to make an excuse. For a second, she’s tempted. It would be easy to walk away now and leave Sheila’s ridiculous claims drifting in the dust behind them. But this is Beca’s _family_. Doing that might damage her relationship with them forever. And, besides, the worst of it must be over; now that Beca and Warren are there, surely Sheila will be civil.

And anyway, wouldn’t leaving just enforce Sheila’s false belief in some influence Chloe supposedly has over Beca?

Chloe shakes her head, refusing to use their code word. Beca’s face turns stony, her eyes searching Chloe’s carefully.

“Just a salad, I’m afraid,” Sheila replies, carrying the pasta bake to the already-set table. “Didn’t think of fruit.”

“Right,” Beca says faintly, reaching to grab two of the salad bowls. “I was just wondering about… never mind.”

Chloe takes the other two bowls, relieved that Beca had decided to trust her judgment and at least wait through dinner.

She and Beca carry the salads over while Warren grabs salad dressing and a bottle of red wine to drink with dinner. Chloe’s surprised; he’s really trying to make this dinner special. Or, maybe he just drinks a lot.

She wouldn’t blame him.

The dining table is long and rectangular, with two chairs on the sides and one on each end. Beca takes a chair on the far side directly across from Sheila. Chloe debates sitting next to Sheila – maybe the farther from Beca, the better – but then Beca’s eyes meet hers and she dismisses the thought, moving next to Beca so Warren can take his place beside his wife.

Sheila dishes out the pasta while everyone starts on their salads; Beca stares at hers in repulsion before pouring copious amounts of salad dressing over it. Nobody speaks, the crunching of salad alone breaking the silence.

Beside her, Beca fidgets and stares fixedly at her plate, her posture almost as pristine as Aubrey’s. Tension rolls from her, making Chloe’s hand twitch, aching to reach out and comfort her. She has to refrain from her natural impulse to place her hand on Beca’s thigh, or to move her chair closer to Beca’s.

Putting her now-empty salad bowl aside, Chloe digs her fork into some of the pasta Sheila had placed onto her plate. She tries not to let it bother her that she definitely received a smaller portion than everyone else at the table and takes a few bites of it without comment.

“This is very good,” she says politely, though it actually tastes somewhat like cardboard.

“Thank you,” Sheila replies stiffly, taking a generous sip of the wine Warren had divided between them all.

For another several minutes, all that can be heard is the sound of forks against plates. Chloe kind of wishes Beca would say something, but judging by the way she’s still glaring down at her plate, it might be best for her to remain silent.

A minute later, Warren takes a breath and says, “So, uh… how’s it going with the Bellas?”

Beca looks up for the first time since dinner started. “Emily’s taking over. I told you that,” she says.

“That’s a big responsibility for one person,” Warren replies, ignoring Beca’s clipped tone. “Is she going to be able to handle that?”

Chloe nods and answers, “We have faith in her. She’s tough.”

Beca glances over at her, posture relaxing slightly. “Yeah, that kid knows what she’s doing. Way more than I did when I started.”

“Yes, you’ve certainly come a long way,” Warren agrees, smiling warmly at Beca.

Chloe also smiles, thinking of the moody “alt-girl” who’d once thought a cappella was lame.

“Hasn’t she come a long way?” Warren twists in his chair to ask Sheila pointedly. Chloe feels her own smile drop.

“Hm?” Sheila glances up at him, then over at Beca. “Oh, yes, very proud. The performances, they were quite good.”

“I always showed them to her on my phone,” Warren explains, as if that would make up for Sheila not attending even one of their performances in a four-year span. “I recorded them.”

“The two of them you went to?” Beca asks, stabbing a noodle with her fork.

Chloe shifts in her chair, dropping her eyes back to her own plate. Both her parents had been at every Nationals performance for each of the six years she’d competed, plus at several of their other performances. They’d recorded each and every one.

Chloe sets aside her fork, suddenly not very hungry.

“What are the other Bellas doing now?” Warren asks after a pregnant pause.

“Um,” Beca takes a deep breath, maybe regretting her outburst. “Stacie is going into… Naval Engineering? Something? Um, Lilly is gonna… actually, I don’t know. Something creepy. Aubrey’s still doing the lodge thing.”

“Corporate camp counselor,” Chloe corrects, then warms under Sheila’s stare.

“Right, that,” Beca gestures vaguely, “Let’s see. Flo will… hopefully not be deported. Jessica and Ashley… um. Who knows?”

“You seem very vague on the lives of your friends,” Sheila comments with a sip of wine. “Almost as if they’re being pushed to the side to accommodate someone else lately.”

“Woah, hey –”

“It’s just because all our plans are vague right now,” Chloe jumps in quickly. “We do know Amy’s getting engaged… possibly. And Cynthia Rose is for sure getting married.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Warren says. “Have you met the fiancé? Do you like him?”

Chloe opens her mouth to correct him politely, but before she can, Beca stiffens.

“He’s a _she_ ,” Beca says sharply. “And she’s amazing.”

Sheila makes some sort of derisive laugh disguised as a cough, then attempts to hide her reaction behind another swig of wine. Her glass is mostly empty already, and she reaches for the bottle to replenish it. When Warren looks at her, she waves him off dismissively.

“And then there’s you two,” Warren deflects, turning back to Beca and Chloe.

Despite already having described their future plans in detail, Chloe nods, happy to change the subject. “Yeah, we’re job hunting.”

Sheila looks up at the “we,” her eyes narrowed. Chloe winces internally at the slip-up, small as it was.

“All over, by the sounds of it,” Warren says proudly.

“Still no LA?” Sheila asks Beca suddenly.

Beca glowers back at her and doesn’t reply.

“I thought you always wanted LA.”

“I _did_ , but –”

“Let me guess. Something changed that plan.”

Beca sighs, putting down her fork. “There are music production studios across the country.”

“The best are in LA. I don’t understand why you suddenly don’t want to go there.”

“I don’t like the weather,” Beca quips.

“Sunny and beautiful?”

“There are earthquakes.”

“They’re rare. You’d be fine.”

Beca rolls her eyes and leans forward. “You haven’t cared about my plans for the last, oh, five years. Why start now?”

“Beca –” Warren tries.

Sheila cuts over him. “I want to make sure you’re making the _right_ decisions, not ones planted into your brain,” she says, eyes flicking in Chloe’s direction.

“Oh my god, that’s not –”

“This pasta really is great, Sheila,” Chloe says loudly, desperate to deflect. “Can I have the recipe?”

No one even glances at her. Chloe’s face burns, though whether from shame or anger, she isn’t sure.

“I’m assuming the cities you’re applying in have been influenced by something? Some _one_?” Sheila asks nastily, leaving no question as to what she believes that influence is.

“What?” Beca gasps. “That is not –”

Sheila turns to Chloe abruptly, her eyes vindictive. “And where are you planning on going?”

“Oh, um –”

“No, no, let me guess. New York? Chicago? Nashville?”

Chloe hesitates. She can’t lie; she shouldn’t have to.

“I knew it!” Sheila cries and throws her hands up, victorious. She turns on Beca, ranting, “You’re trailing along after her, letting this – this phase you’re in dictate the rest of your life!”

Chloe shrinks back into her chair, trying to make herself smaller.

“It’s not a phase! I lo–”

“Oh, you _love her_ , I know! How sweet!” Sheila laughs, a cold, cruel sound that makes Chloe’s skin crawl. “Guess what, Beca? That’s a load of shit. You can’t possibly be in _love_ with –”

“Chloe, would you like more to drink?” Warren asks loudly.

“Oh, like that’ll make anything better!” Beca rounds on him. “Why don’t you tell your homophobic wife to –”

“How exactly is this going to work?” Sheila interrupts snidely.

“Hey –”

“You’ll try to make it long distance?”

“We –”

“Or will you work in the same city?”

“That’s –”

“Living together?”

“It’s none of your business! Shut up!” Beca explodes, slamming her hands on the table and rising from her chair so abruptly it falls backward with a thunderous bang.

Chloe doesn’t know what to do. She sits, rooted into her chair, with angry tears prickling her eyes.

The idea that anyone could hate her so much for loving their child is utterly appalling.

Chloe finally realizes that this whole idea had been foolish. It’s her fault they’re there in the first place, and they need to leave, now.

Without thinking, Chloe twists in her chair, putting one hand over Beca’s on the table and one hand on her lower back. Beca looks down at her, eyes wide and scared.

Chloe starts, “Babe, please –”

“Babe?” Sheila screeches, going ballistic. “ _Babe!_ ”

Warren puts a hand on her arm. “Sheila, it’s not –”

“No, Warren! I’ve seen enough!” Sheila yells, throwing his hand off and pointing directly at Chloe’s face. “This _whore_ has corrupted your daughter, infecting her with the same, twisted mental illness so she can have her way with her with utter abandon, using her body in unnatural ways for her own sick pleasure –”

“SHUT UP!” Beca roars, so loudly that Chloe flinches away. “Just shut the fuck up!”

For the first time ever, Chloe is scared by Beca’s anger. Not scared of it – Beca would never hurt her – but scared by it, because she’s never seen Beca like this, eyes narrowed and towering over the table, quivering with rage.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Beca hisses. “How _dare_ you say that?”

“Beca, please –”

She rounds on Warren, sparks flying from her eyes.

“Did you hear what she said?”

“I’m only speaking the truth,” Sheila insists, downing the remaining wine in a single gulp.

With a wordless screech of rage, Beca snarls, “By calling my girlfriend a whore? By accusing Chloe of – of –”

Chloe flinches at Beca’s unspoken words. Sheila stares at her triumphantly, the full meaning behind her words written across her face, reaching into Chloe’s soul and dragging out her worst fear, on display for everyone to see.

_Chloe Beale, you are a predator._

Warren leans forward, one hand outstretched cautiously. “Beca, we are your family –”

“Do not,” Beca yells, “pull that bullshit on me! You’ve known Chloe for _years_ so to even imply that she’s taking advantage –”

Sheila snorts, remaining calm and cool in her chair. “She’s making you act in ways that you –”

“Oh, fuck _off!_ You don’t know anything about –”

“Beca, please,” Chloe whispers.

“– what we’ve been through to get here, so you can take your prejudiced, bigoted, backward –”

“Beca, stop,” Chloe begs, again grabbing Beca’s hand to get her attention, “Don’t – not over this, please – let’s just go.”

Beca’s eyes snap to her, all fury and pain, but as Chloe looks at her, Beca seems to return to herself.

“Chloe, I –” she starts, then swallows, her voice soft and hoarse. “We’re leaving.”

“I – okay,” Chloe rises from the chair instantly, trying hard not to look at Sheila, who she knows is watching them with intense satisfaction.

Warren rises from the table, distressed.

“Beca, Chloe, I’m – wait, please,” he reaches out to Chloe, as if to grasp her arm.

“Don’t touch her!” Beca spits, moving between them.

He retracts his hand as if stung, his eyes wide and – Chloe spots with a jolt to her stomach – watery. Behind him, still seated at the table, Sheila takes a bite of her pasta, looking every bit as though this outcome is exactly what she’d hoped for.

“I’m done with this, and until you figure it out, I’m done with you, too,” Beca says, her own eyes starting to swim.

Warren jerks back, mouth opening in surprise, and Chloe turns away sharply; she can’t bear to look at him anymore.

Instead, she follows Beca to the entryway. Her head is light, floaty, and she feels every single heartbeat pounding in her chest. She has to reach out a hand to the wall, steadying herself, as she slides her shoes on.

In front of her, Beca’s still trembling as she slams her feet into her shoes. When she looks up, a couple of tears roll down her face but she’s quick to swipe them away with the back of her hand.

“Ready?” she manages, and Chloe nods wordlessly.

Beca goes to the front door, flinging it open with a bang as it ricochets against the wall. Chloe hears quick footsteps and turns; Warren is right behind them, looking scared.

“Let me know when you get home,” he whispers to her frantically. “And I’m sorry.”

Chloe doesn’t know what to do; she can’t say it’s okay, because nothing has ever been less okay.

“Chloe!”

Beca calls to her, and with one last grimace at Warren, Chloe joins her at the front door. Beca grabs her hand, and then they’re moving, Beca practically dragging her from the house, leaving the door gaping wide behind them.

They half-jog to the car, Beca only releasing Chloe’s hand when they’ve reached it. Beca rounds the front of the car, throwing herself into the driver’s seat. Chloe fumbles with the door handle, having to try three times until she manages to get it open so she can slide into the passenger seat.

Behind the wheel, Beca’s fumbling with the keys, swearing and fuming, as she tries to get them into the ignition.

“Beca, stop,” Chloe says, reaching out to grab Beca’s wrist.

“We have to –”

“They’re not following, and you’re not driving like this,” Chloe says, surprised at how steady her voice comes out even though she’s shaking almost as badly as Beca.

“I’m fine.”

“You absolutely are not. Breathe, Bec, breathe, and look at me for a second.”

Beca doesn’t move.

“Beca, please, look at me.”

When she finally does, Chloe’s horrified at the pain and fear shining at her from Beca’s eyes. Beca’s crying properly now, tears slipping down her cheeks without restraint.

Chloe glances at the house; no one is actually following them, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Warren was watching them from the front window again.

“Give me the keys,” Chloe pleads, keeping her voice low and gentle. “Please, Bec.”

For a scary second, she doesn’t think Beca’s going to do it. But then, her wrist twists in Chloe’s grip until she’s holding the keys in her open palm, offering them to Chloe.

“Okay,” Chloe exhales. “Okay. I’ll drive.”

Beca nods, pushing her hands into her hair. “Not home,” she chokes out, her voice thick.

“What?”

“I can’t – the Bellas – not home.”

“Okay,” Chloe says again, taken aback but thinking rapidly. “I’ll find a – a hotel or something.”

Beca nods and takes a breath, then reopens her door and steps out so Chloe can take her place behind the wheel.

 


	18. Chapter 18 - Beca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this makes up for the last chapter? :)

The second Beca steps into the hotel room Chloe had booked them, she can tell Chloe spared no expense. The room is massive, with plenty of cupboards for storage (not that they have any luggage), an enormous TV, a pristine bathroom, a huge window providing a stunning view of the city, and one massive king-sized bed in the middle of it all.

She tries not to focus too heavily on there being only one bed.

She fails.

“I’ll make my dad pay you back,” Beca says over her shoulder as Chloe enters the room behind her. She doesn’t even want to think about how much the room probably cost, though she imagines Chloe chose it because they deserve some kind of luxury after the hell they’d just been through.

“It’s really not a problem,” Chloe shrugs, closing the door and flipping the lock.

“It’s the least he can do, since he didn’t do anything else.”

“Beca…”

Beca kicks off her shoes angrily and throws herself down on the bed, landing on top of the thick white comforter and bouncing a little on the mattress. “I’m so, so sorry that happened, Chlo,” she groans, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes to keep from crying again. “It was – and Sheila saying – god, I don’t even want to say it.”

_This whore has corrupted your daughter._

Lies. Just stupid, hateful lies that should not have seen the light of day and most certainly should never have been directed at the effervescent Chloe Beale.

From across the room, Chloe sighs, sounding more tired than Beca has ever heard her. “No, it was my fault. I thought we could go and it would be okay, and then after the kitchen… we should have left then.”

“Did she say that shit to you then, too?” Beca asks, propping herself up on her elbows. Anger simmers low in her gut; she thought she’d heard the worst of the interaction between Sheila and Chloe in the kitchen.

Chloe shrugs uncomfortably, not quite meeting Beca’s eyes. “Some stuff, but not…”

“Not calling you a –”

“Don’t!”

Beca flinches at the sudden venom in Chloe’s voice. “I didn’t – I’m –”

“No, I didn’t mean –” Chloe cuts herself off with a groan of frustration and hides her face in her hands. Beca watches her shoulders move as she takes a deep breath. After a moment, Chloe looks back up at her. “Sorry,” she huffs. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just – talking about it is just gonna make us angry again.”

Beca lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Yeah, you’re right. Come here.”

Shoulders relaxing, Chloe reaches down and slides off her shoes. She climbs onto the massive bed next to Beca, sidling close to nuzzle her face into Beca’s neck. She exhales, the puff of air tickling Beca’s skin. An arm weaves over Beca’s waist to secure them against each other, and Beca winds her right arm around Chloe to hold her closer.

Beca should be able to relax. She should be comfortable, Chloe’s steadying presence keeping her grounded. Getting away from the house had helped a lot, but still, her mind churns so loudly she’s surprised Chloe can’t hear it. Her thoughts batter against the walls of her skull, increasing in volume and urgency until she feels her head will explode with the pressure if she doesn’t release some of it.

“Can I just – my dad? What the _fuck_ was that?” she blurts, her anger boiling over.

Chloe sighs, lifting her head to look at Beca properly. Her hesitant expression almost makes Beca regret bringing it all up again when they’d pretty much agreed not to, but then Chloe grimaces.

“He was trying, Bec.”

“ _That_ was trying?” Beca asks, incredulous.

“Yes, Beca,” Chloe insists, nodding to emphasize her point. “He invited us there. He asked about our plans. He tried to stop her a few times.”

“He didn’t do enough to help.”

“He’s in a bad spot, Bec.”

“I’m his daughter!”

“And she’s his wife.”

Beca stops short, struggling to argue against that. Chloe’s _right_ , but still. If her mom had still been around, she’d have stood up for them. Hell, if her mom was still alive, Beca wouldn’t have even bothered with Warren and Sheila.

Her mom would have loved Chloe. Beca’s sure of it.

“Yeah, well – he should have tried harder!” she says, looking at the opposite wall stubbornly.

“I know, Beca, I’m not saying what he did was right, but… don’t cut him out of your life, okay?” The careful, almost pleading note in Chloe’s voice draws Beca’s eyes back to hers. “Sheila, sure, she’s – _horrible_ – but your dad… I know it might not always seem like it, but he really does care about you. And, well,” she shrugs, “he’s from a generation that doesn’t really understand us, or _this_. It’s not an excuse, but…”

To Beca’s horror, an unexpected lump forms in her throat and her eyes prickle. It’s not fair that after almost four years of trying to repair her relationship with her dad, this should come between them. She’s tired of fighting. She’d never admit it out loud, but at the end of the day, she does still want a dad.

“I hear what you’re saying,” she mutters reluctantly, flopping her head back down against the mattress. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” Chloe breathes, settling back down against Beca, her hand smoothing over Beca’s stomach.

Beca squeezes her eyes closed, forcing herself to calm down and regain control of her emotions; she doesn’t want to cry any more tonight. Chloe shifts against her, pressing somehow even closer. Beca frowns at the ceiling, remembering every hateful word Sheila had thrown into Chloe’s face.

“Are you okay with… everything?” Beca asks, wrapping her arm more tightly around Chloe’s back.

“Yeah,” Chloe answers a little too quickly, and seems to realize it. “I mean… yeah.”

“Chloe?” Beca sits up a little to look at her properly. Chloe never lies.

Chloe shuts her eyes, her eyebrows drawing together. “Listen, can we just… I’m sorry, can we please talk about this later? We will talk, but not now, okay?”

“Uh, okay. For sure.”

Beca relaxes into the bed, thrown by Chloe’s uncharacteristic refusal to talk, but not wanting to push Chloe into it. She runs her tongue over the front of her teeth, feeling awkward, but not sure what to say to make things better.

Before the silence stretches on for too long, though, Chloe snorts.

“What?” Beca asks, already smiling reflexively.

“Yeah, the food wasn’t great, you were right.”

Beca lets out a bark of laughter. “I can’t believe you kept complimenting her on it!”

“Well, I was trying!” Chloe pokes her in the side playfully.

“Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

“Oh, whatever!”

Chloe dissolves into a bout of laughter that, due to their positioning, shakes Beca along with her. It makes Beca laugh too, and she wraps both arms around Chloe to pull her impossibly closer. Chloe smiles up at her, her eyes dropping, and it’s the most natural thing in the world for Beca to tilt her head until Chloe can press a soft kiss to her lips.

After the kiss, Chloe pulls back with a hum of satisfaction, her eyes smiling into Beca’s. From somewhere among their pile of limbs, a phone buzzes. Chloe sighs, pecks Beca’s lips again, and reaches to pull her phone from a pocket. As soon as she sees the screen, her eyes go wide.

“Oh! Oops, I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“Um, can I borrow your phone?”

“Uh, sure,” Beca agrees automatically, reaching into her own pocket to extract her phone and hand it to Chloe. “Yours dying?”

“Um. Nooooo,” Chloe draws out slowly, doing an excellent impression of Amy.

“Then why…?”

Chloe winces, looking sheepish, and Beca gets a funny feeling. Her mind flashes to her dad standing behind Chloe, whispering something to her frantically just before they left the house.

“Did my dad ask you to call?” she asks, trying to avoid sounding too suspicious.

Chloe wrinkles her nose guiltily. Beca refrains from rolling her eyes, but by the way Chloe’s arm over her waist tightens, she realizes she must not have hidden all of her annoyance.

“He just wants to know we’re safe,” Chloe says softly.

Beca sighs, but she’s not annoyed with Chloe.

“You can borrow it, yeah,” she says, gesturing at her phone in Chloe’s hand. “Tell him to pay you back for the hotel.”

Chloe smiles, but doesn’t say anything. Beca glowers; Chloe isn’t going to ask Warren to pay her back, and they both know it.

“Might as well add his number to your phone while you’re at it,” Beca grunts, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the way Chloe smiles at that. “And my passcode is 552012.”

Chloe frowns, her face screwed up in thought. “Is that…”

Beca pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the look Chloe’s almost definitely going to give her. “It’s the Nationals win my freshman year,” she mumbles. “Don’t make it weird.”

Chloe doesn’t say anything, but Beca can feel her eyes on her, no doubt full of utter delight. She waits, but still she knows it won’t stop until she looks, so, she takes a breath and cracks open one eye to see Chloe positively beaming at her.

“You’re such a softie,” Chloe coos, and Beca groans dramatically.

“I said don’t make it weird! You’re making it weird!”

Chloe reigns in her smile slightly and leans over to kiss between Beca’s eyebrows.

“I love you, you know,” she says in a matter-of-fact voice as she pulls away.

Even though Beca’s heard Chloe say the words before, they still make something clench behind her ribcage.

“I do know,” she says happily. “Now go do your thing with the phone, I’ll chill here.”

“Awes,” Chloe grins, unwrapping herself from Beca and rising from the bed. She grabs her room key card and gets all the way to the door before Beca calls her name.

“Yeah?” she asks, turning with one hand resting on the door handle.

“I love you, too,” Beca says.

The smile that breaks over Chloe’s face is like the sun over the morning horizon, warming Beca from head to toe. Mirroring Chloe’s smile, Beca gestures toward the door, half-shooing Chloe from the room. Without another word (but a widening smile), Chloe steps out, letting the door click shut behind her.

Once she’s gone, Beca hauls herself up from the bed and moves to the large window. She looks out over the city, where lights flare to life gradually now that the sun has set. It should be a peaceful view, but she’s at war with herself. Here, in the lonely quiet of the room, Sheila’s words threaten to envelop her once again, spewing forth unfounded and hateful comments about the person Beca loves most. Resisting, Beca forces herself to think about Chloe: her soothing presence, her warm smiles, how well their lips and bodies fit together.

Beca yanks the curtains closed, making the room feel even more secluded, and moves back to the bed. She settles back against the pillows at the headboard, noticing absentmindedly that there’s a light switch embedded in the wood frame.

Chloe is everything Beca didn’t know she needed. Her kindness, her compassion, and her never-ending enthusiasm for life astound Beca and keep her from falling back into her closed-off and self-protective default. The idea that someone so breathtakingly beautiful, both inside and out, could possibly love her back is still mind-blowing, despite the amount of time she spends thinking about it and how often Chloe tells her she loves her.

Maybe Beca should be scared of how hard she’s fallen in just a short amount of time. The old Beca, freshman Beca, would be scared. She’d run, leave everything behind, and hide the best part of herself to meet others’ expectations.

And yet.

Now, Beca isn’t scared. She knows how she feels about Chloe, and, by some miracle, Chloe feels the same way about her. The world around them is changing and evolving, transforming into a more accepting one every single day. There are still people in it who would hate them for no other reason than that they found happiness with each other, but here, in the safety of their hotel room, those outside forces fade away. With Chloe by her side, Beca would face any of those people.

Loving Chloe is easy. Easier, maybe, than it should be. Easier than she ever thought it could be, given how wrong it had once seemed.

It’s not wrong. Beca knows that now. There is nothing wrong with her loving Chloe, and Chloe loving her.

Besides.

She’s been loving Chloe for years. She just hadn’t let herself realize it.

Chloe’s eyes, Chloe’s smile, Chloe’s laugh, Chloe’s lips, Chloe’s toned arms, the way Chloe’s legs look in slim jeans, the way Chloe’s breasts feel in her hands, the way Chloe’s body presses against hers, all soft curves and strong muscles, how they fit together perfectly, moving in rhythmic tandem.

Warmth creeps up Beca’s neck and she shifts her legs restlessly against the mattress. She’s turned on – she can feel it – and she’s about to spend the night with Chloe in this king-size bed. There’s no one there to interrupt them, so unless something unexpected happens like the hotel fire alarm going off or someone knocking on their door, they have the night to themselves.

The click of the door lock startles her, and she looks over to see Chloe pushing the door open, Beca’s phone in hand.

“Hey,” Chloe greets her. “Your dad says thanks for the call.”

“Right,” Beca nods, a little flustered. “Uh, did you ask him about –”

“He offered to pay for the hotel before I even mentioned it.”

“Good. He should.”

The mention of her father brings back Beca’s dark mood, creeping from the corners of her mind to return to center stage. Chloe seems to sense it, eyeing Beca carefully. She sets Beca’s phone down by the TV, then climbs onto the bed to join her against the pillows at the headboard.

Chloe reaches out, grabbing Beca’s right hand and pulling it into her lap, both hands surrounding it. Fingers trace over the back of Beca’s hand, relaxing her and grounding her to the present. Beca leans into the touch, trying to focus on that rather than on her dad and his wife.

“Did I ever tell you how I got the scar on my forehead?” Chloe asks after a moment.

Beca glances over at her, surprised. Her eyes flick up, finding the barely-there scar high between Chloe’s eyes.

“I forget about it, actually,” she says honestly. “And no, you haven’t.”

Chloe nods, settling back further into the pillows. “Yeah, so, I got it when I was… seven? Maybe eight? And it was this really, super, extra windy day at our house. And, um, we had a pretty large yard, so the wind would just whip across it, and I remember it was shaking the house, rattling the windows, everything.”

“That’s crazy, holy shit,” Beca says, drawn in by the animated way Chloe tells the story, her eyes wide and hands gesturing. She finds herself relaxing, settling further back against the pillows.

“Yeah,” Chloe says, “and, you know, even though it was the middle of the day, I was little, so I was kinda scared by it.”

“Right.”

“So, my dad comes in my room, all excited, and tells me to grab a bed sheet and come outside.”

“A bed sheet?” Beca asks. She can picture it; a tiny Chloe Beale with bright eyes and wild hair, maybe even some baby teeth still in her smile, walking around with a massive bed sheet trailing behind her on the floor.

“Yeah, just like a – you know, a regular bed sheet,” Chloe continues. “So I grab a bed sheet and meet my dad, and my brother, Chris, outside. And Chris has his own bedsheet, right? And it’s still just… insanely, scary windy outside. Like, leaves are flying off the trees, birds are falling through the air. It’s crazy,” Chloe emphasizes, waving her arms in front of her as if imagining the wind whipping by.

“Uh huh,” Beca says, trying to hide her smile. She’s sure Chloe’s exaggerating at least a little, but she’s not about to interrupt.

“Then, my dad said he was going to show us something. He took the sheets and tied the corners to our wrists and ankles.”

“Wait, what?”

“So, um, you tie the top two corners of the sheet around your wrists and the bottom two around your ankles so there’s – so you’re like a kite, right?”

“Oh yeah, okay,” Beca nods, now imagining the younger version of Chloe with a white, billowing sheet behind her, bouncing in place with excitement.

“And so,” Chloe continues, “my dad ties a sheet to himself, and he helps Chris and me, and there we are, all tied in sheets. And then, we step out into the yard.”

Beca gasps, suddenly understanding. “Oh my god! No way!”

“Yeah!” Chloe beams at her, but her eyes are unfocused, lost in the memory. “We go out to the yard, and right away, the wind catches the sheet like a – a parachute. And, ‘cuz I was small, it just… it lifted me up, and I’d fly back a few feet, and come back down to the ground. And so we did that, just jumping up in the yard, flying backward, and landing. Even just trying to walk against the wind was crazy hard.”

“That’s… that’s awesome, holy shit,” Beca breathes.

Chloe nods in agreement. “My mom still has the photos of us. She took them, waiting in the house.”

“I’ll be needing to see those.”

“Definitely,” Chloe smiles. “But yeah, so, we’d done this, jumping and flying back for a while, and I remember my legs were tired, but I didn’t want to stop because I was having too much fun.”

She pauses dramatically, and Beca waits, enthralled, even though she knows what’s coming next.

“And at one point,” Chloe continues, “I guess I just – I don’t know, I landed weird, and my legs gave out, and I totally fell, completely wiped out. My head hit the ground, and I smacked my forehead right on a rock, and it cut me, right here.” She raises a hand to touch the scar, tracing over it.

Beca winces in sympathy; that couldn’t have felt good, especially as a little kid.

“It bled for _ages_ , oh my god. My mom thought we’d have to go to the hospital, and my brother was crying, and my dad was crying too because he felt so guilty for it… he still feels bad, I think, actually,” Chloe shrugs, half-smiling. “But eventually we got the bleeding to stop, and Mom patched me up with about a million band-aids. And you know what I did?”

“Hm?”

“I went right back out into that wind and kept playing.”

“Of course you did!” Beca laughs, falling more and more in love with the ridiculous person beside her.

“Yeah,” Chloe grins. “So that’s how I got my scar, and honestly, it’s probably my favorite memory of being a kid.”

“Yeah?”

Without really thinking about it, Beca raises a hand to trace her fingers lightly over the scar on Chloe’s face. Her fingertips can barely detect it, only a thin groove interrupting the otherwise smooth skin. Chloe’s eyes flutter at the touch, and Beca’s breath hitches in her throat. Her touch lingers over the scar for another moment, then follows along Chloe’s brow and down, over her cheekbone, until her hand gently cups Chloe’s jaw.

“What’s your favorite memory of college, then?” she asks, her voice coming out in a whisper.

To her surprise, Chloe blushes a little, turning her face into Beca’s hand to kiss just below her thumb. “That’s harder.”

“Why?”

Chloe’s eyes flick up to meet hers, filled with a raw honesty that makes Beca’s heart thunder in her chest.

“Because they all have to do with you,” Chloe whispers. “Any memory with you is my favorite.”

“Chlo…”

Beca leans in, Chloe mirroring her, until their foreheads rest together. Her hand slides around Chloe’s face and into her hair, the red locks silky between her fingers.

“Do you know my favorite memory?” she breathes.

“Hmm?”

“It’s the other night. When I told you I love you, and you said it back.”

Chloe’s breath catches audibly. “I always have, and I always will,” she whispers, and then they’re kissing.

Chloe’s lips slide against her own, soft and determined, and Beca responds instinctively, her body perfectly attuned to Chloe’s. She kisses Chloe in return, taking her time, holding back a little to keep it slow, but then Chloe pulls Beca’s lower lip between her own and traces the tip of her tongue over it. Beca hums in the back of her throat, tilting her head to better the angle, as Chloe parts her lips with her tongue to deepen the kiss.

Chloe’s hand appears, resting on Beca’s hip, not tugging or urging her closer, only holding her. The sensation grounds Beca, warming her from the inside out. Supporting herself with one hand planted on the mattress, Beca moves her other hand from the back of Chloe’s head, trailing her fingers from Chloe’s hair down the back of her neck, nails scraping lightly across it to pull shivers from somewhere deep within Chloe. Her touch travels further, dipping around and under the collar of Chloe’s shirt to seek soft skin. She traces along Chloe’s collarbone, remembering what the skin there had tasted like under salt and lime.

“Off?” Chloe whispers against her lips.

Beca’s fingers stutter in their movements; that hadn’t been her goal, not really, but…

“Off,” Beca agrees, a thrill of excitement tingling down her spine.

Beca can hear Chloe’s shaky inhale as she pulls away, her arms crossing as she reaches for the hem of her blouse. She lifts it up and off, revealing her toned stomach and a lacy blue bra that makes Beca swallow hard.

“You wore that to my dad’s house?” she manages.

The wink that Chloe sends her should be illegal. “I didn’t know what we were gonna do after,” she says. “Figured I should be prepared.”

Beca can only nod, her eyes tracing over Chloe’s perfect form. She desperately wants to touch her, but instead, she reaches down to pull her own shirt off. Before she can, though, Chloe’s hands land on hers and Beca pauses.

“Let me,” Chloe says, eyes hooded.

Beca nods and moves her hands away, allowing Chloe to pull up her shirt. It’s different, having someone undress her like this, slowly and sensually, until she feels she’s going crazy with desire. Chloe’s fingers brush against her stomach as she lifts the shirt, making Beca shiver and causing her skin to twitch, until Chloe lifts higher and the shirt reveals the red bra Beca had bought for such an occasion. Chloe’s eyes drop even as the shirt rises and starts to come up over Beca’s head, blocking her view of Chloe temporarily. She’s worried it’s going to get stuck on her ear or in her hair or something equally embarrassing, but Chloe is careful and precise and she’s soon she’s pulling Beca’s shirt completely off to cast it away.

“You wore that to your dad’s house?” Chloe teases, her eyes flicking back up to meet Beca’s.

“Preparedness,” Beca mumbles vaguely.

Chloe smiles, and then she’s pulling Beca forward and lying back until Beca hovers half over her, supporting herself with a hand on either side of Chloe’s shoulders. Chloe’s hands inch around to Beca’s back, tracing over the skin and drawing swirling patterns that drive Beca forward and down to capture Chloe’s lips in another deep, tongue-filled kiss.

Still, Chloe’s touch trails over her, smoothing over her lower back, up to her bra strap, and back down. Beca pushes closer, need pooling low in her stomach until she’s desperate for Chloe to really touch her. She waits until Chloe’s hands repeat their wandering circuit, nudging into her bra strap and tracing over it before she speaks.

At the touch, Beca pulls back only enough to ask, “Off?”

Chloe freezes under her at the question, her breath hitching audibly and hands ceasing in their movements.

“Please?” Beca whispers, nudging her nose against Chloe’s. “If you want.”

Chloe’s fingers twitch against her back, and for a second, Beca thinks she’s just going to unclasp the bra right there, but then Chloe’s nodding and moving her hands between them to push lightly at Beca’s shoulders, guiding her back up to sitting.

“Okay,” Chloe says, sitting up as well. “Yeah, off.”

Beca’s stomach flutters with nerves and anticipation as she reaches behind herself. She finds the clasp of her bra and unhooks it easily, the tension from it relaxing. Still watching Chloe, she slides the straps from her shoulders and pulls her arms out, until she has to hold it to herself to keep it from falling. She’s abruptly bashful and shy, not sure what Chloe’s going to do.

But Chloe’s eyes, rather than focused on her chest, are still locked with Beca’s own, looking at her like she always does, expression full of tender care. It calms Beca, and she pulls the bra away completely to reveal herself. Chloe’s eyes flick down, then back up to find Beca’s.

“Mine off?” she asks.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Beca’s quick to answer. “Just because I did, doesn’t mean…”

“I want to,” Chloe says, smiling gently. “Help me with it?”

Beca’s brain short-circuits at that, but she somehow manages to nod and move closer. She lifts her hands around to find Chloe’s bra strap, tracing along it until she feels the ridges of the clasp under her fingers. She’s never unhooked someone else’s bra before, and she fumbles with it a little, feeling kind of foolish.

Chloe leans forward, drawing her own arms back to guide Beca’s hands, wordlessly showing her fingers where to grasp and pull at the fabric, until Beca feels it come loose. She puffs in relief, pressing her lips to Chloe’s in a silent thank-you. Beca pulls back, guiding the garment down Chloe’s shoulders and off her arms to drop it beside the bed near her own.

She tries not to look right away; Chloe had kept eye contact with her for so long that Beca’s not sure if she should look or not, but her eyes keep dropping of their own accord.

Chloe chuckles gently, bringing Beca’s attention back up to her face.

“You can look, Bec. It’s okay.”

Beca swallows hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She gives up trying to control her eyes, letting them fall to Chloe’s bare chest. And it’s not like this is the first time she’s seen Chloe – the Shower Incident, for one, and just in living in the same house for three years, she’d caught glimpses – but it’s the first time she’s felt she’s been allowed to really _look_. Her eyes drink in the details, committing Chloe to memory. Chloe is absolutely perfect, beautiful and bare for her.

“You’re beautiful,” Chloe says, and Beca glances up in surprise. Chloe’s eyes are on her chest, and she looks just as blown away as Beca feels. The idea that Chloe sees her and wants her – thinks she’s beautiful – claws at something inside Beca, urging her on.

“Can I touch you?” she asks, her voice raspy.

Chloe’s eyes flutter and she twitches forward. She stops herself, though, and takes a deep breath that raises and expands her chest, and Beca’s eyes drop again, tracking every movement.

“Yes,” Chloe breathes, inching forward even though they’re already sitting close.

Beca’s hands feel warm and twitchy, fingertips over-sensitive as Beca reaches forward. She rests her hands on Chloe’s hips first, just above the top of her jeans. She moves her hands higher slowly, tracing up over the lines of Chloe’s abs, feeling the dip and rise in her obliques. She follows the lines, rising up to brush over Chloe’s rib cage, mapping out the ridge of each one of Chloe’s ribs. Chloe’s breathing faster now, her eyes sliding closed and own hands twitching against the crisp white comforter.

The sight makes Beca lose her nerve for a second, tracing around the outsides of Chloe’s breasts, the barest hint of the curves sending heat rocketing through her body, until her touch again runs along Chloe’s collarbones. Chloe’s straining now, the tension in her neck obvious. So, with a deep breath, Beca gives them what they both want and slides her hands down.

Chloe sighs noisily, arching forward, but Beca barely notices. She’s too enraptured by the feel of Chloe’s bare breasts in her hands, their soft, warm weight as she cups and holds them. A crease forms between Chloe’s brows and she bites her lip; with one final glance at her face, Beca gently runs her thumbs over the peaks.

Chloe gasps sharply and pushes forward, urging more of herself into Beca’s hands. Beca freezes, stunned by the reaction.

“I – is that –”

“It’s good,” Chloe gasps, her eyes struggling open. “It felt good.”

Beca puffs out a shaky breath, relieved she hadn’t done anything wrong. She carefully repeats the motion with her thumbs, utterly astounded by the way the skin pebbles and responds to her touch. Her touches bolden, until she’s circling with her fingertips, kneading and exploring, attune to every twist in Chloe’s spine, every twitch of her face, every sound that escapes from between her lips. Chloe squirms where she sits, her fingers tapping against the bed.

Noticing this, Beca pauses again. “You okay?”

Chloe nods, then says, “Yeah, it’s – can I touch you, too?”

“Oh!” Beca feels her eyebrows shoot up. She’d been so focused on Chloe that she’d forgotten – actually, honestly forgotten – that she’s just as bare as Chloe is. “Yeah, of course.”

Reluctantly pulling her hands away from Chloe to let them wait at her sides, Beca offers herself to Chloe’s hands. Chloe’s eyes flick between her face and her chest, as if checking with her again, before they land on her chest and stay there. Chloe reaches forward, less cautious than Beca was, to trace around her ribs and leave feathery touches along Beca’s skin. She’s still slow in her movements, almost reverent in the way hands lightly caress Beca around her breasts, tracing along her ribs, her stomach, and below her collarbones, until impatience sparks in Beca’s stomach and she can’t stop herself from arching forward.

Chloe looks up at her then, a mischievous smile toying around her lips; a second later, hands cup and hold, and Beca jerks as the touch races through her, shaking her to her core. She makes a noise that might be a squeak or a gasp, or something in between, and Chloe’s grin widens. Fingertips brush over her peaks and this time, Beca really does gasp, the touch like lightning against her. Chloe presses and circles and explores much the same way Beca had, repeatedly flicking over the peaks until Beca’s the one squirming now. Then, Chloe palms her and squeezes lightly and Beca’s surging forward until she’s hovering above Chloe again, straddling her hips.

Without really thinking about it, Beca bats Chloe’s hands aside and drops her mouth to straining skin. Below her, Chloe swears in surprise and arches up, her hands twisting into Beca’s hair to hold her in place. Beca runs her tongue repeatedly over the peak of Chloe’s right breast, drinking in the sounds every pass draws from Chloe. She closes her lips around the peak and sucks, pulling a groan from deep within her girlfriend. The fingers in her hair turn insistent; Beca pulls back, releasing Chloe’s breast, and Chloe collapses back to the mattress as if Beca’s mouth had been acting as a magnet, holding her suspended.

Beca licks her lips and descends to the other side; it happens again, Chloe’s back lifting off the bed to arch into her mouth. Beca shifts her weight, her left hand moving to nudge at and circle around Chloe’s unoccupied breast, left pebbled and wet by her tongue. Whines and whimpers fall freely from Chloe’s lips, and Beca treasures every one, learning which pushes and patterns from her tongue and fingers elicit which noises.

She had no idea it could feel like this, had no idea how addicting it is to pleasure someone this way. The way Chloe arches into her and pants her name is remarkable, and Beca wants this, wants _more_ , so much that it takes her by surprise. Doing _this_ with Chloe is new, and exciting, and already so much more than she knew it could be.

Beca releases Chloe’s breast, satisfied by the way Chloe falls back to the mattress. Realizing it’s been too long since she’s actually gotten to kiss her girlfriend, Beca moves up to reunite their lips, Chloe’s hands disappearing from her hair to instead find purchase on her shoulders. Chloe’s touch runs up and down the length of her spine, uninhibited, and a knot forms low in Beca’s gut. She knows what it is, knows what it means, but because this is _Chloe_ turning her on, everything is amplified.

She growls, moving now to Chloe’s neck, suddenly feeling the need to mark and claim her. Chloe keens when Beca sucks on her pulse point, creating a new bruise to replace the one that had recently faded. She releases the spot, drops and inch lower, and does it again, Chloe’s hands starting to stutter and twitch on her back as she gasps brokenly for air.

“I – shit, Bec –”

Beca feels it, the instant Chloe’s hips lift up into hers. The sudden friction makes Beca groan into Chloe’s neck and she grinds down reflexively. Chloe’s hands seize at her back, tugging her down closer as Chloe’s hips buck up yet again.

*******************

_She remembers what it was like, the first time she’d seen Chloe at the Activities Fair._

_The moment the sunlight caught the redhead’s beautiful hair and stunning eyes, something had fluttered in her stomach. She remembers the way Chloe’s mouth had formed every word; remembers the way her eyes had begged Beca to “help turn their dreams into reality.” She remembers the way it had made her feel, warm and hopeful and longing in ways she knew were inappropriate. It had been so much harder than it should have been to walk away from a complete stranger and her rude blonde friend._

_It had been even harder not to glance down when, weeks later, Chloe had burst into her shower. She doesn’t like to think about why she’d wanted to look down, doesn’t like to think about the little thrill she’d gotten when Chloe had looked at her. Mostly, she doesn’t like to think about the jealousy she felt when the guy Chloe had been with walked in._

_It had been the same when Chloe had pulled her close during Hood Night, so close their lips almost touched._

_She doesn’t like thinking about how disappointed she’d been that they hadn’t kissed then._

_And every day since, every single look, smile, touch shared between them that had made her insides twist and squirm and her heart stutter in her chest, she’d refused to acknowledge because they were just friends._

_Chloe is her friend, and to feel anything more is unfair to her._

_They could only ever just be friends, because there’s no other option._

*******************

And this feeling – the sensation of being desired so desperately, and of desiring – is new, too. It steals Beca’s breath from her lungs and wipes everything else from her mind, until all she can see and hear and feel is Chloe under her.

She wants more.

She adjusts, sliding one thigh high between Chloe’s, pressing, grinding forward and down as she kisses Chloe’s neck, cheeks, lips, wherever she can find. All she knows is she needs Chloe under her, under her body, under her lips, under her touch.

“Beca, I – Bec, shit, I –”

Chloe’s hands land on Beca’s hips, fingers digging into the material. The next time Beca grinds forward, Chloe bucks up, and her hands pull at Beca, bringing her pelvis down and squarely into her own.

Beca’s eyes flutter and she stills above Chloe, trying to regain some semblance of control. She has to moisten her lips before she can ask the question hovering in the stilled air around them.

“Chlo, can… god, can we…”

“Do you – are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Beca breathes. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life.

Chloe’s eyes slam closed and her entire body rolls under Beca, silently begging for Beca to touch her.

“Yes,” Chloe chokes out. “ _Yes._ ”

And Beca sits up abruptly and she moves herself off Chloe, nervous and excited and scared and honored that this is going to happen, that this is Chloe in front of her. The fact that it is Chloe calms her, reminds her that there’s nothing to be scared of, because it’s _Chloe_ , best friend Chloe, girlfriend Chloe.

“Um, wait –” Beca glances over at the headboard, finding the switch she’s seen earlier. Sure enough, when she flicks it, soft lights emit from the top of the headboard, illuminating the wall and ceiling above the bed.

“Oh,” Chloe says quietly, looking up.

Beca smiles and hurries over to the switch by the door, flicking the main lights in the room off so that the room is delicately lit only by the lights from above the bed. As she does that, Chloe shoves the comforter down the bed to pool at its foot, exposing crisp white sheets. She lies back on against the pillows, and Beca moves to rejoin her. She’s a little worried that the moment had died, but then Chloe immediately pulls her down into a searing kiss and her worries disappear.

After another few moments of kissing, Beca pulls away and sits up. She meets Chloe’s eyes again to make sure they’re still on the same page. Chloe, still lying on her back, nods yes.

Beca’s stomach flips. _This is happening. This is really happening._

Her hands tremble with nerves and excitement as they move to Chloe’s jeans, smoothing over the waistband until she reaches the button and pops it out. Chloe’s hips twitch, urging Beca to continue. Still trembling, she finds the zipper and eases it down slowly, revealing blue lace that matches the bra Chloe’s wearing.

She exhales in a hot puff, trying to get her nerves to disappear. She glances up and is stunned to see Chloe’s hand wound into her own hair, expression desperate and almost pained. It tells Beca all she needs to know.

Gripping the jeans, Beca starts to work them down. Chloe has to lift her hips to help, and then Beca’s pulling the pants down over toned thighs, over perfect calves, and off Chloe’s feet, taking her socks with them.

Now Chloe sits up, finding the waistband of Beca’s jeans. Beca’s stomach flips again when Chloe works the button free, and when lithe fingers slide the zipper down, a concentrated bolt of heat hits her center so hard it makes her feel lightheaded. She has to stand from the bed on trembling legs to work the jeans the rest of the way off, taking off her socks as well.

Maybe she should feel self-conscious, undressing in front of someone, but she doesn’t. This is Chloe, and that makes it okay. They way Chloe’s looking at her, her expression full of awe, tells her that she has nothing to be afraid of. So, Beca reaches and slides off her red underwear, too, seeing Chloe’s throat bob up and down.

Beca has never felt more comfortable in another’s presence as she does in this moment, standing naked before Chloe.

“You’re amazing,” Chloe breathes, and the words pull at Beca like a magnet until she’s reaching slowly for Chloe’s panties.

Chloe lifts her hips instantly, not even waiting for Beca’s hands to land on the garment before she’s silently begging her to take it off. A dark patch has formed on the fabric between Chloe’s legs, which is… tantalizing. Flattering. Mind-boggling.

Arousing.

Beca eases the panties down, gasping when Chloe is revealed. She almost wants to stop, to just stare at Chloe all day, but an impatient whine from Chloe has her moving again, sliding the underwear off completely and tossing it to the floor.

She indulges herself just a moment more and simply looks at Chloe, laid before her on the bed against pristine white sheets. Her hair creates a vibrant halo against the pillows, and the bed lighting casts a warm glow over her, somehow making the moment even more delicate. Chloe could have anyone on the planet, but chose her; knowing that sears Beca’s insides and turns her brain to mush.

“Sometime today, Bec,” Chloe smiles, teasing gently.

Beca rolls her eyes and leans forward, lying on her side next to Chloe so they can face each other.

“You’re perfect,” she says, “can you blame me for taking my time?”

Chloe’s pupils are already blown, heavy and dark, but she looks at Beca with so much love that it tangles something in her chest. If the stars could align, they would above their hotel room. Everything in Beca’s life has led to this moment.

Chloe reaches for her, resting her hand on Beca’s bare hip. Chloe’s fingers tremble against her, and it’s strangely reassuring that Chloe’s feeling just as much as she is.

“We’ll talk it through, yeah?” Chloe says softly.

“Yeah,” Beca breathes, nerves fluttering in her stomach.

“Okay,” Chloe says, her fingers flexing against Beca’s hip. “Okay. Just… relax.”

Beca exhales shakily, Chloe leans in, and then they’re kissing again. This time, Beca lets herself be guided to her back, Chloe half on top of her. Beca rests her hands on Chloe’s back, fingertips following the curve of her spine. It’s different this way, their bare skin touching and sliding against each other’s, Beca’s burning wherever Chloe’s touches. Chloe’s breasts push against her own, their combined sensitivity ratcheting Beca’s body up another hundred notches.

Chloe shifts, her lips dropping to Beca’s neck, immediately pulling the skin into her hot mouth to suck and nip at it. Beca groans, her body rolling in response to the knowledge that Chloe’s possessing her, claiming her as her own for the whole world to see, judgment be damned. She belongs to Chloe, and only Chloe.

Chloe’s mouth maps a burning, bruising path down her chest, until she has to shift again. With a quick look into Beca’s eyes, Chloe swings a leg over her hips and settles down, straddling her.

It tears a moan from deep within Beca’s chest and her hips lift, seeking friction. It makes Chloe’s eyes flutter and brow furrow, but a second later she’s moving, leaning down, and she takes one of Beca’s breasts into her mouth.

“Shit, that’s –” Beca gasps, gritting her teeth against the pleasure of Chloe’s hot tongue circling and bathing her. She arches up, tangling her fingers in red hair to encourage Chloe. She’s going agonizingly slow, taking her time first with one breast, then the other, until Beca’s left gasping for air.

Above her, Chloe shifts again, this time to straddle one of Beca’s thighs. Before Beca really registers what’s about to happen, Chloe rocks forward, _pressing_ up into Beca. Fireworks explode behind Beca’s eyes and she moans, shocked at how good Chloe feels against her. She pushes down to meet Chloe’s rocking thigh, her hips rising automatically.

With the positioning, she can feel Chloe against her own thigh, hot and swollen. She bends her knee, giving Chloe something to bear down on and making her shudder and gasp. Chloe drops to a forearm, putting more of her weight onto Beca.

Beca’s whining now; she can hear the moans spilling from her own throat, but she doesn’t care. “Please, Chlo, just –”

Until Chloe’s hand appears on her side, wrapping around her ribs then trailing down between them over her stomach. Beca sinks into the mattress, unable to do anything but wait for Chloe’s touch. Fingertips circle around her navel, moving lower until they pause low on her abdomen, tracing over the invisible line where her panties would normally cover.

“Are you sure?” Chloe asks again, her voice raspy.

“Completely,” Beca says, tilting her hips and lifting her chin to ensnare Chloe’s lips in one more kiss.

Chloe hums against her lips, a sound that promises Beca everything. Her fingers trail lower, dipping down until they glide between Beca’s legs.

Their kiss breaks as they both gasp and Beca’s head falls back into the pillow at the same time her hips lift against Chloe’s hand. Chloe’s touch is light, gentle and careful, but still enough to make Beca’s eyes slam shut and legs shift further apart.

“Wow…” Chloe breathes, and Beca isn’t sure if she even meant to say anything out loud, but Beca still nods in response. She doesn’t need to be told how wet she is, how ready and warm she probably feels, because she _knows_ , especially with how slowly Chloe worked her up. Beca didn’t know it could be like this, didn’t know what it would feel like to want someone so much.

Chloe’s fingers slip over her, dragging through everything that has been begging for attention – for Chloe’s attention – for what feels like an eon. Chloe’s fingers search, finding the bud that has Beca’s eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in surprise.

“You feel amazing,” Chloe whispers, pressing soft kisses to her lips and cheeks.

“God – so do you,” Beca manages, breaking off into a moan when Chloe’s fingers start to move against her.

Gradually, Chloe’s fingers circle and stroke more firmly, almost finding rhythm but not quite, and the way Chloe smiles tells Beca she knows exactly what she’s doing. The touch drifts lower, until a finger lightly circles around her entrance.

Beca inhales sharply, clutching at Chloe’s back, trying to spread her legs as best she can with Chloe on top of one of them. Chloe’s eyes meet hers, the question in them, and Beca wants to both scream and laugh at how careful Chloe’s being, at how delicate, because she’s never experienced anything like it before.

Beca can only nod, taking one hand form Chloe’s back to find her arm, following it down to the hand between her own legs. She covers Chloe’s hand with her own, guiding and showing her, then, carefully presses until Chloe moves in with no resistance.

Even having guided Chloe, knowing what was about to happen, Beca isn’t quite prepared for the sensation. Her own hand flies back to its place on Chloe’s back, needing an anchor as she arches up. Even though Chloe is inside her, she’s still not close enough.

“Okay?” Chloe whispers, not moving, just holding inside.

Beca bites her lip and nods, beyond words. Because it’s way better than okay; she’s not felt anything like it. Holding Chloe inside her isn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable; rather, it’s much better than it was being achingly empty.

Chloe presses a kiss to her temple then starts moving, pulling out and pressing in gingerly, rubbing at Beca’s walls in all the right places. They’ve never done this before, but Chloe already knows what to do, knows how to listen to Beca’s gasps and whimpers in order to respond and play her body like an instrument.

“Keep talking to me,” Chloe says, nudging their noses together.

She pulls out to rub circles against Beca again, then slides in with a second finger that Beca feels herself stretching around. From within, there’s a fluttering, as if Chloe’s wiggling her fingers, and Beca’s hips tilt up and she cries out at the feeling of being filled by Chloe.

Chloe echoes her, whimpering and speeding up her thrusts, pressing the palm of her hand into Beca with every thrust in. She shifts again, and Beca glances down in time to see Chloe’s thigh moving against the back of her hand before Chloe drives forward, with enough force to raise Beca’s back off the mattress.

“Harder,” Beca groans, feeling herself tightening, and Chloe whimpers above her, thrusting with more fervor.

Her hands turn to claws at Chloe’s back, and she knows she’s scratching her, but Chloe just hisses in her ear and presses closer, pushes impossibly faster, until Beca can feel how close she is. She pants a warning into Chloe ear and Chloe nods, pressing deep and holding to grind circles against Beca with the palm of her hand.

Just like that, Beca’s teetering on the edge, rigid and arched, suspended in time.

Then, Chloe breathes, “I love you,” and drops her mouth again to Beca’s neck, and Beca’s falling, collapsing in on herself, her hips jerking against Chloe as she cries out broken variations of her name mingled with swear words. Chloe holds within, gently moving inside Beca to prolong it as long as possible, until, with a final shudder, Beca sags against the mattress.

She lies there, more than a little surprised by it. She hadn’t been expecting to finish, not really. She had no idea an orgasm from someone else could feel like that, or that it was even possible for her to come undone from someone else’s touch. The realization that she can, that she’s not broken beyond repair, is shocking and pleasing and so overwhelming that she has to blink hard, because she is _not_ going to be that person who cries after sex.

After a second, Chloe eases away, pulling out carefully. Beca’s thighs clench together at the loss, and she laughs once, a shaky sound of disbelief as Chloe rolls off of her completely. She misses Chloe instantly, misses the sensation of Chloe above her, and angles her body toward Chloe even as Chloe sprawls next to her.

“Was that okay?” Chloe asks, her eyes wide.

Beca blinks back, shaken by the realization that Chloe is actually asking, she’s not being arrogant or sarcastic, but she genuinely needs Beca to tell her what she felt.

“That was –” Beca has to stop to clear her throat before she can continue. “That was awesome. Like, really, I don’t – you were – that was so good,” she says, her mind scrambled and body still tingling.

It doesn’t help at all when Chloe beams at her and raises a still-glistening hand to her lips. Beca stares, transfixed, as Chloe pulls her fingers into her mouth, licking them clean.

A groan tears itself from Beca’s throat and something snaps deep within her; she feels she’s going to die if she doesn't touch Chloe immediately. As soon as Chloe’s fingers are out of her mouth, Beca lunges forward to kiss her, hard, her squeak of surprise encouraging Beca on until she’s rolled Chloe to her back and hovers over her on her hands and knees.

“Your turn,” she smiles before she leans down, brushing their noses together, teasing before finally tilting her head for a kiss. Chloe meets her, strong and steady, and Beca wastes no time sliding her tongue between Chloe’s parted lips.

Chloe’s hands trace down her back, dropping occasionally to squeeze and knead her backside with increasing urgency. Beca gets the hint and moves her mouth to Chloe’s neck, feeling the vibrations of Chloe’s groans under her lips. Beca’s becoming impatient, and, judging by the way Chloe pants and strains up into her, so is she.

Beca works her way down Chloe’s chest, again kissing, licking, and sucking at Chloe’s breasts. Chloe writhes under her, and Beca can’t stop smiling against Chloe’s skin; she sees why Chloe had drawn it out so long. She brings a hand between them, running her fingertips over Chloe, trailing over her stomach. She brushes over what must be a sensitive spot on Chloe’s side, and Chloe jerks against her with a whine.

“God, Beca, just – get on with it,” Chloe groans, her hips rising into Beca’s stomach.

“So impatient,” Beca mutters. She’s tempted to wait, to tease, to draw it out, but she never could deny Chloe anything.

Adjusting her weight, Beca mimics what Chloe had done earlier. She straddles one of Chloe’s legs, using her knee to nudge Chloe’s legs apart. Not that she really has to try; Chloe opens for her instantly, and Beca stares in awe. It takes every ounce of her willpower not to reach and touch Chloe right then, but she wants to build it up as long as she can first to make sure Chloe is comfortable.

She fits her thigh against Chloe, a shiver rolling up her spine when she feels wet heat against her leg. Chloe whimpers, squirming against Beca’s thigh and tilting her hips against it before Beca’s even fully settled back over her. As soon as Beca is in place, the leg she’s straddling bends and lifts to fit against her, making her body twitch and roll despite her previous relief.

Beca stills above Chloe, mesmerized by the way she throws her head back as she grinds down against Beca’s leg. Chloe’s hands are at her hips, flexing and clutching at her. After several seconds, it occurs to Beca that she should be doing something; she gives an experimental press and roll of her hips, and Chloe’s mouth drops open in a silent gasp.

_Wow._

Beca drops to her right forearm, freeing her left hand to slide down Chloe’s body even as she continues rocking into her. She feels the strain in her core already, but she’s not stopping this for anything. She slides her hand down around Chloe’s hip, resting it high on her thigh. Chloe twists toward the touch, trying to move Beca’s hand a few inches to the right.

Beca makes eye contact, pausing, but before she can even ask, Chloe nods frantically, her hands like talons on Beca’s back.

“Let me know if it feels good,” Beca murmurs, pressing a kiss to the hollow at Chloe’s throat.

Chloe’s only response is a soft whimper; she spreads her legs even further, and Beca moves her hand. Both their jaws drop at the first touch, the sensation of Chloe at her fingertips racing through her interconnected nerves and through her spine to ignite her entire body.

It’s like nothing Beca has ever experienced. It’s so, so different from touching herself; Chloe feels perfect under her touch, all soft, wet heat. Beca’s fingers glide over soaked skin, and she can only imagine how surprised she must look because Chloe half-smiles up at her.

“It’s for you,” Chloe whispers, her voice hitching.

And Beca doesn't know what to say or do because her brain can’t handle that information, can’t possibly comprehend that she turns Chloe on this much, that Chloe wants her, is _aroused_ by her. It’s utterly mind-blowing.

So, she does the only thing she can think of and moves her fingers. She seeks, explores, intending to discover every inch, because this is it, the only first time they get. She learns Chloe’s facial expressions, learns that a stroke of her fingers makes Chloe’s eyes flutter and learns that tight circles around the bud draws Chloe’s hips up and makes her bite down on her lower lip.

Beca touches more, fingers slipping through Chloe, circling with enough pressure to make her entire body jerk, until Chloe’s hands on her shoulders pull her down into a desperate, sloppy kiss. Then Chloe breaks the away and, through labored breaths, whispers into Beca’s ear a single request, something Beca once thought she’d only hear Chloe say in her dreams.

“Okay,” Beca replies numbly. “I can do that. Anything.”

Her fingers drop lower, teasing Chloe’s entrance. And then Chloe’s reaching down and showing her, guiding her in, until Beca’s middle finger is surrounded by soft heat. Chloe moans, a soft, almost surprised sound from the back of her throat that makes Beca’s heart race. After a moment, Chloe replaces her hand, still trembling, on Beca’s back, where her touch anchors Beca.

Beca forces herself to wait, to hold still so she won’t accidentally hurt Chloe. She focuses on how Chloe feels against her hand and around her finger, how beautiful Chloe looks, her face and neck flushed, her hair wild from both Beca’s hands and her own. When Chloe’s eyes flutter open to meet hers, Beca’s chest throbs with how perfect she looks.

Chloe nods then, shifting her hips, and Beca takes the hint. She does her best to mimic what Chloe had done, moving pulling out and pushing in slowly, curling her finger, rubbing at the texture she feels inside. She watches Chloe’s face carefully, figuring what feels nice for her.

Chloe’s whimpers, gasps, and groans fill the space between them in the most harmonic symphony Beca has ever heard. She listens closely to every one, memorizing them, her mind filling the gaps between them with slow, sensual beats that she aligns with the movements of her hand and fingers.

“Like this?” Beca whispers, positioning a second finger at Chloe’s entrance.

Chloe shivers against her, her hips rising. “That’s good,” she pants brokenly. “That’s – that’s really good.”

Beca hums in acknowledgment, pressing forward with two fingers. Chloe’s eyes squeeze closed and her nails dig into Beca’s back; when Beca pulls back to thrust in again, those nails scrape lightly down her spine, leaving stinging trails that only serve to push Beca into her more firmly, using her thigh against the back of her hand. She continues, rubbing inside and pressing her palm against Chloe, moving gradually faster and more rhythmically.

“Beca, shit, I – that’s – oh shit Bec right there – I’m –”

Beca can tell when Chloe’s getting closer; she can see it in the desperation on her face, hear it in the way Chloe’s voice breaks over her name, and feel it in the way Chloe’s hips thrust erratically in time with her thrusts. Chloe tightens, her body going still, and Beca presses deep and holds, dropping more of her weight between Chloe’s legs and fluttering her fingers and pressing her palm against Chloe, doing anything she can to bring her to that brink.

Just like that, she feels it; Chloe shudders up into her, crying out her name and hooking her free leg over her hips and all Beca can do is watch. She’s enraptured, totally blown away, because she’s never felt this before, never felt that sensation around her fingers from within someone else. Knowing that she did that, that she was the one to bring Chloe to this point, that Chloe wants her this much is amazing and astonishing and beyond anything Beca has ever experienced.

Chloe comes under Beca’s touch, and it’s the most beautiful thing Beca has ever witnessed. It’s everything.

It’s Beca’s new favorite memory.

She doesn’t want it to ever end, but, of course, it does eventually. Chloe relaxes down into the mattress, melting into it, a big, goofy grin growing on her face. Her thighs relax, so Beca pulls back slowly, carefully, surveying Chloe’s expression until she’s completely out.

“Yeah?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.

Chloe smiles up at her, something deep and unidentifiable behind her eyes. “Yeah, perfect,” she sighs, catching her breath. “You’re always perfect.”

Beca grins, moving off Chloe and to the side. She’s hit with the overwhelming need to taste Chloe, so she lifts her hand to her lips, pulling her fingers into her mouth and watching the way it makes Chloe’s lips part in surprise.

As soon as Beca’s fingers are clean, Chloe leans forward with surprising agility and kisses her hard. Beca sinks into it instinctively, her body shuddering when Chloe licks into her mouth sensually. After several minutes, Chloe pulls away from the kiss and Beca blinks her eyes open. She’s on her back again, Chloe hovering over her, and isn’t sure how that happened, but she’s not about to complain.

Especially not when Chloe looks down at her thoughtfully, a single eyebrow lifted.

“Bec, I…”

“Yeah?”

“Can I taste you? Properly, I mean.”

The words come out rushed, as if Chloe’s either impatient or embarrassed to ask, but Beca understands. She’s immediately hit with the image of Chloe’s head bobbing between her legs, and a fresh wave of arousal floods through Beca’s insides, coating her veins in desire.

“Do you – is that – do you want to?” Beca stammers. “You don’t have to.”

Chloe doesn’t answer, instead leaning down to kiss lightly along the bruises she’d already left on Beca’s neck. Beca has no idea what they look like, but from their sensitivity, she imagines they’re big and dark. She shivers again, legs shifting without her conscious command.

“Trust me,” Chloe breathes against her skin. “I want to. If you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah, that’s – yeah,” Beca manages, her voice squeaking. “Please.”

Chloe releases a jagged breath that ghosts over Beca’s skin, and then she starts moving backward, kissing her way down Beca’s body. She presses kisses along her sternum, a kiss to the peak of each breast, and drags her lips down Beca’s stomach, her tongue circling around Beca’s navel. By the time she slides off the end of the bed to stand at its foot, Beca’s quivering with anticipation, somehow even more turned on than she had been before Chloe brought her to that previous high.

A touch to her ankle makes Beca glance down; Chloe’s tugging on her legs gently, wordlessly urging her to move down in the giant bed.

“Fuck,” Beca breathes, and then she’s moving, sliding down the sheets until she’s half on the bed and half off, her legs dangling over the edge, Chloe standing between them and looking down at her.

Keeping eye contact, Chloe lowers herself to the floor, dropping to first one knee, then the other. Beca has to choke down a groan; seeing Chloe Beale on her knees between her legs makes her center actually throb with need, almost to the point of pain.

And when Chloe lifts her left leg to rest it over her shoulder, Beca’s pretty sure her soul leaves her body. Chloe shuffles closer, until she’s up close and personal with _down there_ , and, unexpectedly, Beca feels bashful. But then Chloe looks up at her, her expression soft.

“You’re so, so beautiful, Beca.”

Instantly, Beca relaxes, shyness evaporating to leave only desperation in its wake. Beca whines, trying to convey what she wants – what she needs – and thankfully, Chloe seems to understand. She loops an arm around Beca’s thigh, the fingers of that hand pulling Beca open, while the other hand slides up Beca’s leg, over her stomach, until Beca understands what Chloe’s asking. She links their fingers together so they’re holding hands, winding her other hand into the sheets in anticipation.

Still holding eye contact, Chloe leans in.

The first swipe of Chloe’s tongue through her is long and broad, traveling from her entrance up to her bud; Beca moans loudly, uninhibited, her hips rising automatically into Chloe’s face.

“God, you’re amazing,” Chloe mumbles against her, then repeats the broad stroke of her tongue, this time flicking at Beca’s bud.

“Ah – you – that’s – you –” Beca chokes out, incoherent syllables falling from her lips. This is so different from what they’d done before, so much more intimate. Chloe’s tongue is everywhere, flattening and sweeping, then fluttering, not yet finding a set rhythm. Her nose nudges into Beca, sending zings of electricity up Beca’s spine with every pass.

Beca knots the sheets in her fist so tightly she’s amazed she hasn’t torn a hole through them. As soon as she has the thought, Chloe’s nudging at her again, insistently, and Beca glances down. The sight of bright eyes staring up at her from between her legs almost sends her over the edge right there, but Beca blocks it, gasping for air.

“Yeah?” she pants out.

“Put your hand in my hair,” Chloe says, having to pull back so her voice isn’t muffled.

Beca groans and does it, shaking out her fist from the sheets and moving it to the top of Chloe’s head. As soon as she does, Chloe reattaches her mouth and continues, her tongue and lips relentless against Beca. She licks into Beca, drawing skin between her lips to suck at and soothe with her tongue, until Beca’s writhing, arching, crying out. She knows her grip is too tight in Chloe’s hair, knows she’s pulling, but she can’t stop. Besides, by the way Chloe only hums and groans into Beca, sending vibrations through her, it seems that Chloe likes having her hair pulled.

“Look at me,” Chloe says suddenly.

Beca’s entire body trembles and she forces her head up and eyes open – she hadn’t realized she’d closed them. She watches Chloe, locking eyes as Chloe’s head moves between her legs. It’s somehow even better than she’d imagined it would be and the sight forces her legs open wider, her body begging for more. This is Chloe doing this, best friend and girlfriend Chloe, whose tongue and lips and nose and cheeks are covered in _her_.

“Christ, shit –” Beca swears, her body tensing and hips rising. She claws into Chloe’s hair, her other hand still intertwined with Chloe’s, that connection between them remaining, sweetening and softening the moment.

Chloe’s eyes seem to sparkle and she drops lower and moves somehow closer and Beca feels a soft intrusion, and she’s tensing around what is unmistakably Chloe’s tongue pressing inside her. It breaks something within Beca, and she’s flopping back, her head falling into the pillows and eyes slamming closed. She cries out and instantly, Chloe moves with more purpose, pressing in and dragging slowly out, then licking and sucking, sweeping over Beca rhythmically before pushing back in.

Beca can only writhe, desperate, breathing hard, her mind only able to focus on how Chloe’s mouth feels against her. She’s utterly destroyed, and all it takes is one more repeat of the cycle, Chloe’s lips closing over her bud to suck and Beca’s thrown over the edge.

She yells and tenses, her body rocking and lifting into Chloe’s face. It seems to last forever, wave after wave crashing over her, ripping wordless noises from her throat in a torrent, until finally, her body gives out and she dissolves into a mess of shivering aftershocks against the mattress.

Chloe makes a soft sound of awe, catching Beca’s attention. She finds the strength to glance up, and her body shudders again; Chloe’s looking up at her, still nestled between Beca’s legs, her cheeks and nose still covered in Beca. They hadn’t removed their makeup, and Chloe’s mascara is smudged and smeared.

“Come here,” Beca gasps, and, with one final lick up through Beca to make her body twitch and jump, Chloe eases Beca’s leg from her shoulder and stands slowly, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

Beca pushes herself back fully onto the bed, collapsing against the pillows at the headboard. Chloe joins her a moment later, sprawling beside her. Beca reaches out tiredly, and Chloe meets her lips in a gentle kiss.

Beca pulls back first, Chloe chasing it before settling against her.

“So…” Beca starts. “I think we can do that again.”

Chloe laughs, curling into Beca, their legs intertwined and arms wrapped around each other possessively. Beca’s body, still sensitive, shivers and twitches at the touch, but she sinks into Chloe.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Chloe whispers, radiant.

“Mmm,” Beca agrees, stifling a yawn. “And if you give me, like, two minutes, I’d like to try the same for you.”

“If you say so,” Chloe murmurs, pressing a kiss to Beca’s forehead.

Beca tries to respond with some snarky remark, but her eyes are already sliding closed and Chloe’s arms around her are just so comfortable that she doesn’t think she can move.

“Love you, weirdo,” she manages, knowing it comes out slurred.

“I love you, too,” Chloe breathes, and that’s the last thing Beca hears before she’s drifting off, at home in Chloe’s arms.


	19. Chapter 19 - Chloe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for internalized homophobia.

Chloe wakes slowly, her eyes only fluttering open for the barest instant before closing to protect themselves against the soft morning glow filling the room. She keeps them closed, inhaling deeply through her nose to ease her body back to awareness. She stretches out her limbs, working out their slight stiffness. As she moves, the sheets crinkle unfamiliarly against her bare skin and for a second, she doesn’t remember where she is.

A second later, though, the memories come back: escaping from Beca’s dad’s house, arriving at the hotel, calling Warren, going back to the room, and… _Beca_. Beca’s lips, Beca’s body, Beca under her, Beca _inside_ her, Beca falling asleep in her arms and how carefully Chloe had pulled the covers over them both so as to not wake her.

Chloe reaches to her left, searching, but finds the bed empty and cold.

Her eyes fly open – had it been a dream? Is she in her room at home? – but no, she’s in the hotel, still cocooned in the massive bed. Her gaze lands on the clearly slept-on pillow and undersheet, their user nowhere to be found. Even if Beca had slept there, Chloe is now unmistakably alone.

Chloe’s stomach jolts as if she’d been punched.

She bolts upright in bed, the sheets pooling around her waist as she looks frantically around the room. No sign of Beca. Heart thundering, Chloe searches the floor, seeing her own clothes still scattered around the bed. Beca’s are missing.

Oh god.

Beca’s gone. Beca left. Beca ran.

Shit shit shit shit shit. Beca regrets it, regrets sleeping together, regrets being with her like that. Beca doesn’t want to see her anymore and is probably on a plane headed directly to LA to get back together with Jesse and – oh god, everything is ruined and Choe’s chest is cracking into pieces because she’d finally done it, she’d pushed too far, asked for too much.

They shouldn’t have slept together. Emotions were running too high and she _knew_ it wasn’t the best idea but she’d given in to her body’s wishes and they’d had sex and now Beca’s gone because Chloe crossed that sacred line and she’d taken advantage of her and everything is ruined and _oh my god shit shit shit._

The bathroom door opens and Beca tip-toes out, still totally naked. The panic in Chloe’s chest dissolves instantly, cool relief crashing over her like a bucket of water. She raises a hand to her mouth, exhaling shakily, the sound of it making Beca look up at her guiltily.

“Oops, I didn’t think you’d wake up,” she apologizes instantly, stopping at the foot of the bed.

“It’s okay,” Chloe says much too quickly, her fingers trembling from the adrenaline of her panic.

Beca stands there a little awkwardly, raising a hand to the back of her neck. Purple bruises mark her skin from her chest up to her jaw, catching Chloe’s eye and making her shiver despite her fear.

“I was gonna shower, bring breakfast, surprise you…” Beca trails off, still looking sheepish.

Chloe’s eyes slide closed. Of course. That’s why Beca’s clothes are missing; they’re in the bathroom.

“Right,” she manages faintly, settling back into the pillows slowly.

Beca reaches for one of the paper cups on the counter – probably the reason she’d come out of the bathroom in the first place – but then stops. She glances over at Chloe and seems to change her mind. She leaves the cup where it is and rounds the side of the bed, lifting the covers and sliding under them.

“Morning,” she whispers, moving close to wrap her arms around Chloe’s waist and pull her into a soft and slow kiss. The feeling of Beca’s lips against hers soothes Chloe instantly, reassuring her of Beca’s presence.

“Morning,” Chloe replies, pulling back to rest her forehead against Beca’s.

“Last night was amazing,” Beca breathes, tucking a strand of Chloe’s hair behind her ear.

Chloe’s body comes to life at the memory of it, pressing closer to Beca to tangle their legs together.

“It really was,” she replies, doing her best to ignore the tingle of unease at the back of her mind.

Beca hums, her lips returning to Chloe’s and thigh nudging high between Chloe’s legs. A hand slides into Chloe’s hair and she can feel Beca pushing at her gently, urging her onto her back.

“I have a favor to repay…” Beca breathes against her lips.

Chloe hesitates, just for a moment, but it’s enough.

Beca stops pressing into her and pulls back. “What’s wrong?” she asks quietly.

“I’m – nothing.”

“Chloe?”

“It’s – there’s…”

“Chloe, please talk to me,” Beca says softly, moving off Chloe completely to rest at her side. “I don’t – I can’t read minds, here.”

Chloe turns slowly to her side to face Beca, stalling for time. She doesn’t want to ruin Beca’s mood, but she knows they need to talk, and the way Beca’s looking at her tugs at her heart.

“Okay, um,” she starts, tongue loosening at Beca’s encouraging look. “Last night, I didn’t… did I take advantage of you?”

Beca’s head moves back an inch in surprise and her mouth falls open. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

“ _What?_ No, Chlo, Jesus – no, never.”

Chloe glances down at the sheets between them, hearing Beca’s words but afraid to let herself believe them.

“God, why on earth would you…?” Beca trails off, and Chloe looks back up to see horrified understanding take over her expression. “Sheila. That fucking bitch.”

_This whore has corrupted your daughter._

_She can have her way with her with utter abandon, using her body in unnatural ways._

Chloe nods and shrugs, her eyes focusing on the wall over Beca’s shoulder. She tries to dampen down her emotions and lock them away again, but her fears bubble up inside and spill out of her mouth before she can stop them.

“She said I was using you for – for sex, and it just – it’s something I’ve worried about before and I don’t –” Chloe swallows hard, then forces herself to continue. “Beca, if I’ve ever done anything like that or if I’ve ever pressured you –”

“Chloe, stop,” Beca cuts her off, her face darkening and twisting at what Chloe’s implying.

Chloe forces herself to take a deep breath, attempting to calm the racing of her heart. Across from her, Beca rakes a hand through her hair impatiently, taking a breath of her own.

“I – that’s –” Beca starts, then stops.

“Beca –”

Beca cuts her off, raising her index finger in signal for Chloe to wait. Chloe bites her lip, holding back everything she wants to say.

A heavy silence fills the air between them. Chloe can almost hear the cogs turning in Beca’s mind. Chloe wishes she could hear Beca’s thoughts or somehow see how she’s processing, but Beca remains closed-off, apparently lost in thought.

Finally, Beca takes another breath and looks up, her eyes intense and startling.

“You have never,” she starts seriously, “and I mean _never_ , pressured me in any way. Hell, sometimes, it’s like – like I can feel you holding back. I can feel how careful you are all the time, and it’s – I appreciate it, but, like… you can let go now. It’s okay.”

Chloe swallows at the lump in her throat, blinking rapidly. “Okay,” she whispers. “I was trying to protect you.”

“I know, Chlo, and I love you for it,” Beca insists earnestly. “But it’s okay now. I promise.”

“Okay,” Chloe breathes again, blinking rapidly.

“And what do you mean, you’ve thought about this before?”

Chloe shrugs and tenses again, her mind flashing back to the weeks-old call to Aubrey after the Treble party.

“Please?” Beca prompts.

_God._

Chloe takes a deep, shuddering breath. She had never intended to tell Beca this – any of this.

“I – I’ve liked you – loved you – for so long, Bec. So, so long,” she says, laughing quietly. “And I felt weird about it. It felt creepy, because you’re my best friend, and I was scared that – that it was wrong that there was something wrong with me. And then last night, you were so – we were both so upset and I – I shouldn’t have –”

Chloe cuts herself off abruptly, choking on the same old horror and disgust with herself rising like bile in her throat. She looks down at the bed again, unable to look at Beca.

_Chloe Beale, you are a predator._

Beca’s hand moves to cover her own, and Chloe looks up in surprise.

“Chloe, listen to me,” Beca says, her expression somehow softer and more tender than Chloe has ever seen it. “I mean this. You are not – there’s nothing wrong with you. You have never, ever, crossed a line with me. I _promise_. And last night…” Beca pauses, rolling her lips together and blinking up at the ceiling. She huffs a short laugh before continuing, “Last night, I asked you, remember? I started it. You checked with me, so many times, you talked to me. I wanted last night, too.”

“I… yeah?”

Beca nods solemnly. “It was the best night of my entire life.”

Chloe can only stare, speechless; the way Beca looks at her leaves no room for interpretation. Beca isn’t lying to make her feel better. Beca doesn’t think she’s a predator, and really, shouldn’t her opinion matter the most? Chloe draws in a breath and allows herself to believe what Beca’s saying, and what Aubrey has been trying to tell her for years.

_There is nothing wrong with you. You are not a predator._

Something loosens in Chloe’s chest, relaxing and releasing her anxiety and fear. She breathes more easily than she has in a long time, though she hadn’t known she’d been struggling for air. She’s light, free, and finally able to love Beca to the best of her ability.

“Wanna know something else?” Beca asks, smiling crookedly.

“What?”

“I used to think there was something wrong with me, too. For liking you,” Beca says.

“There’s not,” Chloe replies instantly.

“Exactly,” Beca smiles. “So there’s nothing wrong with you, either.”

“Yeah,” Chloe breathes, settling back into the pillows. After a moment she huffs, throwing an arm over her eyes. “God, we both thought…”

Beca hums and scoots close again, tucking into Chloe’s shoulder and sliding an arm over her waist.

“What a time, huh?” Beca mumbles. “Seems like a raw deal.”

“It really is, sometimes,” Chloe agrees, running her fingertips up Beca’s back.

“Yeah… and, listen, I’ve heard Sheila say things like that for years. So it sucks, but, like, I’m not shocked. That’s how she is. Are you sure you’re okay?” Beca asks.

Chloe sighs, staring up at the ceiling. She doesn’t want to fly off the handle and insult Sheila too much, no matter how much she deserves it; she’s still technically Beca’s family. “I just – I don’t know how anyone can be that hateful,” she eventually says. “We’re not doing anything wrong, we’re not hurting anyone – so why won’t she let us be happy?”

Beca burrows into her even further, a sigh of her own rolling through her body.

“People like her just… they don’t see it like that,” she says. “I don’t know, Chlo, it just sucks. Don’t listen to her. Don’t believe a single, stupid word she said to you.”

“Yeah…” Chloe breathes, then hesitates. “Um, but… what she said about LA?”

Beca shifts in her arms, picking up her head and craning her neck so Chloe can see her face.

Chloe thinks she looks tired, and maybe a little sad.

“LA…” Beca starts. “I know it was all I cared about three years ago, but honestly… have I even really talked about it lately?”

Chloe has to think. She doesn’t recall Beca having talked about LA in a long time, since maybe even before Worlds and the retreat.

“No…” she answers, wondering why she hadn’t noticed that sooner.

“No,” Beca agrees. “I realized – LA is great, but I meant what I said. There are music producer jobs everywhere, and… and I wouldn’t be happy anywhere without you.”

Chloe knows the smile that sweeps over her face probably looks dorky and is excessively big, but she doesn’t care.

(She knows she wouldn’t be happy anywhere without Beca, either.)

Beca laughs a little, a quick humorless sound that surprises Chloe and tapers off into another sigh.

“Jesse and I should have broken up a long time ago. I was just a coward.”

“Woah, what?” Chloe looks sharply at Beca. “You’re not a coward, Bec.”

“I am, though,” Beca insists. “If I’d been brave, I would have realized it wasn’t going to work a long time ago. And, who knows, maybe we could have gotten together sooner.”

“Hey, don’t,” Chloe protests squeezing her arms around Beca tighter. “You never know what could have happened. And besides,” she adds, pressing a kiss to Beca’s forehead. “I told you. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Beca smiles softly at her, tilting her head so they can share a proper kiss. Beca moves closer, her skin sliding against Chloe’s to serve as a reminder that they’re both bare under the sheets.

“Okay?” Beca ask, pulling away from the kiss to nudge their noses together.

“Yeah,” Chloe smiles genuinely. Everything feels more okay than it has in a long time. “I’m okay.”

“In that case,” Beca growls, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. “Where were we?”

Chloe’s stomach swoops in anticipation and a thrill runs down her spine. She reaches under the covers, finding Beca’s hips, and guides her until Beca straddles her with a breathless laugh of surprise.

“I think we were about here,” Chloe answers, just in time for Beca to lean forward and crash their lips together in an immediately deep kiss.

Beca’s tongue slides confidently over her own, at times so deep in her mouth that Chloe struggles to breathe. It’s never too much, though, and it makes Chloe’s center ache at the thought of where else Beca’s mouth is going to be just as talented. Chloe’s body is already responding, hips lifting into Beca’s weight and her hands running along Beca’s spine, tracing over the smooth skin. Then Beca somehow hooks her tongue around Chloe’s, drawing it into her own mouth to suck on it, and Chloe’s entire body rolls with a whimper.

It makes Beca smile against her lips and shift, dropping her mouth to Chloe’s neck to nip and suck at the same bruises she’d left the night before. Chloe hasn’t seen them, but she can feel how dark Beca’s making them, adding more in spots until Chloe know there won’t be any question as to what they were doing all night and morning.

Beca works her way backward, moving down Chloe’s body to leave marks on her chest, each one making Chloe’s hips jerk in response. She’d be a little embarrassed about it if she weren’t already so turned on.

“This works for breakfast,” Beca mutters, right before she runs her tongue over the peak of Chloe’s breast.

Chloe chokes over her laugh, her back arching up from the mattress. That this is _Beca_ saying things like that makes it so much more. After years of hoping, years of desperate wishes and fitful dreams, this is finally happening.

“Beca…” Chloe groans, hips rising again. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” Beca answers, releasing Chloe’s breast only to switch to the other side.

Chloe’s hands wind into Beca’s hair, not tugging, just holding her in place as Beca’s tongue draws circles and patterns over her skin. A sharp flash of teeth makes her gasp and sends a rolling wave of arousal crashing between her legs.

Beca’s hand appears on her stomach, sliding down, and Chloe moans, trying to open her legs as best she can with Beca on top of her. Beca gets the hint and adjusts, moving to straddle one of Chloe’s legs rather than both. The change allows Chloe to spread her thighs, and right away Beca cups her.

“Oh, god,” Chloe gasps, squirming down, trying to press herself more firmly against Beca’s hand.

Beca groans in appreciation, stroking up and down and rubbing small, firm circles that pull whimpers from Chloe’s throat. Her touch drops lower and she slides a finger in, just enough for Chloe to feel it, before pulling back out and removing her hand from Chloe completely.

“Bec – shit, just –” Chloe pants in frustration, writhing to follow Beca’s touch.

Beca merely grins, sliding her fingers into her mouth to suck them clean. Chloe’s brain turns to mush, her eyes fixed on where Beca’s fingers disappear between her lips, and then Beca’s taking her hand from her mouth and moving off of her completely to shove the blankets down to the crumple on the floor. The air around them is cool and Chloe shivers, but then Beca’s settling down on her stomach between her legs and heat floods her veins.

“Uh, the angle,” Beca mutters, “can you toss me a –”

The pillow Chloe swings down almost hits Beca square in the face, but she catches it and Chloe’s already lifting her hips before Beca can ask. Beca slides it under her and Chloe drops, her hips already rocking and twitching without her command. Beca stares for a moment, jaw slack and lips parted.

“You look so good,” she whispers after a moment, and the reverence in her tone draws Chloe’s back from the bed and makes her hands tangle into the sheets underneath her.

Beca half-collapses back to her stomach, moving close until Chloe can feel her breaths puffing over her sensitive skin. Chloe’s body responds instantly, hips rising and head pressing back into the pillow. Beca makes a small sound, a little gasp of amazement or awe, and loops her arms around Chloe’s thighs, holding her hips down.

“Oh my god,” Chloe breathes, planting the bottoms of her feet against the sheets and screwing her eyes closed, waiting for Beca’s tongue to appear between her legs.

She waits.

And waits.

“Beca, what –” she picks up her head to look down her body and sees Beca staring up at her form between her legs.

As soon as they make eye contact, Beca leans in and licks a broad stripe right up through everything that’s been aching for her attention. Chloe cries out and throws her head back in relief, toes curling against the mattress as Beca licks through her again, her tongue pressing and circling.

Beca taps at her hip, not breaking the rhythm with her lips and tongue, and Chloe glances down to see Beca’s hand reaching up. With a gasping laugh, Chloe releases the sheets and grabs Beca’s hand, holding tight as Beca draws skin between her lips to lap at. Beca’s eyes are still locked on hers, bright and shining as she closes her lips around Chloe’s bud.

Chloe’s other hand flies into her own hair, tangling her fingers into it and gasping brokenly as Beca releases her and goes back to licking, her nose nudging into Chloe.

“Christ – Bec, god, Beca, yes –”

Beca hums into her, the vibrations hitting Chloe’s center and drawing her muscles tight. Beca’s tongue dances over – and, occasionally, _in_ – her, licking and drawing skin between her lips until Chloe’s squirming against the sheets, tension building low in her stomach. Without warning, Beca adjusts her grip and slides a finger into Chloe easily, making her back arch with a broken moan.

Chloe’s body draws taut, dangling on the edge, waiting for the final nudge like waiting for a bass drop. Her jaw clenches and her body tenses, then Beca presses in deeper and takes Chloe’s bud into her mouth to suck and Chloe falls.

It pounds through her veins in electric pulses, making her shudder and jerk into Beca’s face and she knows she’s calling Beca’s name too loudly and squeezing her hand too hard and her thighs are too tight around Beca’s head but she can’t relax because her body just keeps going and going and Beca keeps sucking and licking.

Finally, _finally_ , it passes and Chloe’s legs fall from around Beca’s head, setting her free as Chloe melts back into the mattress, panting to try to catch her breath. Beca pulls back and slides out of her carefully, cupping Chloe again delicately. Even the barest contact makes Chloe twitch and tears a string of syllables from her lips, her body oversensitive.

Beca smirks at her, wiping her mouth and face as she lets go of Chloe’s hand and moves up to rejoin her at the head of the bed. Chloe watches her, taking in the shine in her eyes and the pride and excitement turning up the corners of her still-glossy lips.

Without saying anything – Beca already _knows_ how good she was – Chloe grabs the back of Beca’s head to pull her down into a searing kiss. She can taste herself on Beca’s lips and tongue and she’s instantly pushing at Beca’s shoulder, flipping them until she’s on top of Beca, nestled between her legs.

“Encore?” Chloe whispers into Beca’s ear, running her tongue over the metal bar that runs through it.

Beca moans and her hands fly to Chloe’s hips. With a grin, Chloe rolls her hips forward, loving the high-pitched squeak Beca makes, her eyes flying wide.

Oh yeah. She could get used to this.

*******************

_Chloe hates DSM more than she’s ever hated anyone._

_Maybe it’s not hate, exactly. It’s not in her nature to hate people. So it’s probably not hate. But it’s something close to it._

_“Okay! Just because you are making me very sexually confused does not mean that you are intimidating!”_

_It might be hate. If not for the whole group, at least for that Kommissar woman._

_As the rest of DSM files past, Chloe does her best to school her features, refusing to let herself consider the meaning behind Beca’s words. She thinks she manages it, at least until –_

_“Beca, you got a toner for her?” Cynthia Rose asks loudly. “I didn’t know you swing like that.”_

_Beca’s face turns bright red as she raises her index finger to wave it around, making dissenting noises in her throat. “Mmm, no, I, that’s not –”_

_“It’s okay Beca, we’re aca-sisters! We accept each other!” chimes Emily brightly._

_Amy clears her throat, adding, “Yeah, there’s already a lot of lesbian activity here, Beca, so lesbi-honest with each other.”_

_“Guys!” Chloe shouts, half to spare Beca and half to preserve her own sanity. “Focus. That’s the enemy, and that’s what they’re capable of. We need to regroup and make a plan to beat those Deutsch-bags.”_

_“Yeah,” Beca says loudly, still looking flustered. “We need to focus so we can beat out the competition.”_

_Cynthia Rose snorts. “Don’t you mean eat out the –”_

_She cuts herself off abruptly under Chloe’s most withering glare. Cynthia Rose’s expression rapidly changes to one more appropriate for a funeral and she makes her way toward the exit silently, the rest of the Bellas following._

_Chloe’s about to follow when a touch lands on her arm; Beca’s looking at her with wide eyes._

_“Thanks for that,” she mumbles, eyes flicking toward the retreating Bellas. “And, listen, what I said about the whole, you know...” she waves her free hand in the air aimlessly, “the – like, sexually confused, or whatever –”_

_“It’s fine, Beca,” Chloe interrupts, stepping around her to follow the Bellas out the door. “We’ll recover and kick their butts at Worlds.”_

_She feels bad about it, because Beca looks like she wants to say more, but Chloe really doesn’t want to hear about Beca’s feelings – if that’s what they are – for this tall blonde woman. It’s actually ridiculous, how easily Kommissar was able to get under Beca’s skin like that. It’s even more ridiculous how much Chloe’s bothered by it. She knows she’s not really mad at Beca; she’s mad that she hadn’t been the one to bring out that reaction in Beca three years ago at the Activities Fair._

_Honestly. ‘Sexually confused.’_

_Chloe tries not to read into it. Even if Beca isn’t necessarily straight, she’s still with Jesse. And – Chloe has to bite back a huff of frustration – even if she and Jesse break up, apparently Beca’s type is tall and blonde._

_Still._

_For the first time in a long while, she allows herself to hope._

*******************

Hours later, Chloe again wakes slowly, this time to the feel of warm, regular puffs of air against her collarbone. She’s lying on her side, one arm tucked up under the pillow and the other flung over the waist of her bedmate, their legs tangled together so that a thigh rests between hers.

She keeps her eyes closed, listening to the gentle gurgle of the hotel’s pipes and the soft padding of footsteps from the room above theirs. The air conditioning hums below the window, reminding her of the warm summer day outside their quiet sanctuary. She hears Beca’s breathing, a soft and regular whoosh that accompanies the puffs washing over her skin.

Her arm rises and falls in time with those breaths, draped as it is over Beca’s side. Chloe twists her hand so she can trail featherlight touches along Beca’s warm, creamy skin, following the ridges of her spine until her fingers reach where she knows Beca’s tattoo crosses her back. Though she can’t see it from how they’re curled up, Beca close and burrowed into her, Chloe runs her fingers along where she knows the ink is, tracing over the memorized design lightly.

Beca’s arms are latched around her, one under the curve in her waist and the other over her hip, keeping their bodies close in the warm hold. She knows they’ll have to get up eventually to check out of the hotel and return home to the Bellas, but Chloe isn’t in any hurry.

She blinks her eyes open, the sunlight in the room stronger than it had been, though still watery through the curtains, and sees Beca’s face, smooth and peaceful and turned toward her, close to her chest. Her hair splays chocolate, stark against the white pillow, and Chloe can’t resist running her fingers through it. As she does, Beca murmurs in her sleep, eyebrows drawing together, and burrows even further into Chloe.

Chloe sighs, letting her eyes slide closed again, utterly content.

This is what she’s always dreamed of.

 


	20. Chapter 20 - Beca

“Did you guys finally smash, then?”

Amy’s loud voice greets Beca as soon as she opens the front door of the Bella house. Beside her, Chloe’s already giggling, and Beca knows she’s in for a rough several minutes. Rolling her eyes, she steps into the house with Chloe and closes the door behind them.

She knows how it looks. She’d thought about it on the entire drive from the hotel to the Bella house; she and Chloe are wearing rumpled, day-old clothes, have snarls in their hair, aren’t wearing makeup, and were supposed to be back last night.

She _knows_ she shouldn’t be surprised that literally everyone is gathered in the sitting room, scattered around the couch or sprawled on the floor, clearly waiting for this exact moment with barely contained glee. It’s hard not to smile back at them all, honestly: Emily’s bright grin, Amy’s raised eyebrows, Stacie’s lewd hip thrusts, and Cynthia Rose’s look of satisfaction.

Beca just wishes the comments could have waited until they’d gotten completely into the house.

“Shut up,” she grumbles without any bite to it. Chloe’s hand squeezes hers in response.

It only makes the Bellas happier, for some reason. Flo nudges Jessica beside her and the two of them dissolve into silent giggles.

“Beca, someone devoured your neck. Did you know?”

“Thanks, Stacie,” Beca says, gritting her teeth. They hadn’t had anything to cover the marks with at the hotel, so she knows her neck looks like a map of the Caribbean Islands.

“Anytime,” Stacie replies happily. “Don’t worry, Chloe matches.”

“I’m aware.”

“You look like those spotted dogs,” Flo says, frowning in thought.

“Dalmatians?” Emily suggests.

“Sí, those ones.”

Beca rubs a hand over her face, wondering how much paperwork would be required if she were to snap and murder eight of her best friends.

Ashley leans forward, a smile playing around her lips. “I’m not sure it’s actually a walk of shame if you _both_ show up in the same clothes the next day.”

“Oooooh, good point,” Stacie replies, raising a hand to her chin and staring at them in thought.

“Okay, um –” Chloe starts.

“How was it?” Cynthia Rose cuts her off with a sly grin.

“Yeah,” Amy says, looking far too invested for Beca’s liking. “Did you have sex in Chloe’s car all night?”

“Go away,” Beca scowls.

“We found a hotel,” Chloe supplies, leaning in to kiss Beca’s temple.

Even that small gesture elicits hoots and giggles from the Bellas. Stacie pops her fingers in her mouth to release a loud wolf-whistle that makes Beca flinch and Chloe laugh.

“Yeah, Lilly said that’s what happened,” says Emily.

Beca glances in the corner, where Lilly sits on the floor knitting what is either a scarf or an exceptionally large sock. She pauses to smile her signature closed-lipped smile, and a shiver runs down Beca’s spine.

“About time you two got some,” Jessica says. “The tension was ruining my hair.”

“Did you make a video?” Stacie asks earnestly. “For science.”

“Uh – you don’t get to say that,” Beca says, trying to ignore how fun that idea sounds. She’ll have to bring it up to Chloe later.

Stacie scoffs. “I’m a scientist. I can say what I want as long as it’s for science.”

“Oh my god,” Beca groans. “This is really not anyone’s business.”

“It is, actually,” Amy interjects, “because I feel like you’re not quiet, and the rest of us have to sleep in this house.”

Beca tries to defend herself, but all that comes out is a wordless smattering of syllables that even she doesn’t fully comprehend.

Beside her, Chloe only smiles. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Cynthia Rose points to Stacie and says, “At least the Hunter here had the decency to soundproof her room.”

Stacie nods enthusiastically. “Ooh, I can give you that guy’s number. He installed the soundproofing and then helped test it.”

“Okay!” Beca says over the sound of the Bellas’ laughter. “This has been… educational. But I’m gonna head upstairs, so…” she trails off, moving to the stairs and taking Chloe with her.

“No sex on my bed,” Amy reminds them as they leave the room.

“Oh my god,” Beca huffs, climbing the stairs as fast as she reasonably can with Chloe in tow.

“They’re just excited for us,” Chloe reminds her.

Beca softens and says, “Yeah. I get it. I’m excited, too.”

They reach the landing, hands still linked. Beca tugs Chloe forward into a quick kiss; it’s been entirely too long since their lips have touched. Chloe hums against her lips but doesn’t try to deepen the kiss. Instead, she pulls back before Beca’s really ready and leans their foreheads together.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Chloe whispers, snaking a hand around Beca’s waist to rest on the back pocket of her jeans. “Feel free to join.”

The hand on her ass squeezes.

Beca’s stomach clenches and she has to take a steadying breath. “Yeah, that’s… yeah.”

“Awes,” Chloe says happily, pecking Beca’s lips once more before reclaiming her hands and turning away to saunter toward her bedroom, hips swaying.

Beca can only stare, her head reeling. It’s not until Chloe’s bedroom door closes that Beca finds she can move again. She walks (somewhat stiffly) upstairs to her and Amy’s bedroom and dives into her closet to find a change of clothes. She also grabs her shower caddy with her shampoo and body wash and starts shucking off her day-old clothes in favor of her navy bathrobe.

She pulls her phone from a pocket to toss on her bed while she undresses, but as she does, she notices a text notification from her dad. Her stomach flutters and her every other thought erases.

She stares at her phone, lips pursed. Her thumb hesitates over the PIN pad, uncertain. She takes a deep breath. Then another. After a third, she unlocks her phone and opens the message from Warren.

_W: I know you probably won’t want to see me for a while. But, if okay, I’d like to call you and talk things over. Whenever you’re feeling up to it._

Beca sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. She’s not blind. She’d seen how distressed he’d been when she and Chloe had stormed out of the house.

She’ll call him. Eventually.

But for now, Chloe is waiting for her in the shower.

Beca tosses her phone onto her bed and finishes undressing, moving quickly. She puts the robe on, only haphazardly tying it around her waist before scooping up her shower caddy and towel. She thinks her phone buzzes on the way down the stairs, but she’s not about to make Chloe wait any longer.

She throws herself down the steps to the second-floor landing and is outside the bathroom door in a flash. She can already hear the shower running from inside the bathroom. The door is open just a crack, so she knows Chloe’s invitation still stands.

Beca eases the door fully open, slides in, then closes it behind her. At the click of the latch, a pleased hum from behind the shower curtain makes Beca smile and sends heat between her legs. She sets her caddy on the floor and sheds her robe, hanging it up on the hook on the inside of the door. She glances in the already-steamy mirror to check that she still looks presentable, then moves toward the shower.

She takes a deep breath, inhaling the rising steam and noting that Chloe must have gotten a new body wash. Her tongue flicks out to dampen her lips and she reaches for the curtain, her body tingling with excitement, memories of the night before flashing through her mind.

She grabs the curtain and pulls it aside only far enough to create a gap big enough for her to slip through, and she steps into the warm shower.

“Hey, sorry to keep you –”

Jessica spins around and screams loudly, jerking away reflexively to slam into the shower wall with a loud thud. Beca screams back, just as startled, and reels backward only to stumble over the shower ledge and, flailing, land hard on the floor outside the shower.

“What are you doing here?!” Jessica screeches, trying desperately to cover herself while also shielding her own eyes.

“Shit – Christ, I’m so – I thought – Chloe – and the water –”

Beca doesn’t even know what’s coming out of her mouth; all she can focus on is scrambling up from the floor to get to her robe.

“I’m sorry!” she eventually manages, picking herself up and lunging for the door. As she does, she trips over her own shower caddy and falls forward, ramming into the door with more force than she meant to.

“Why are you naked?” Jessica cries back, yanking the shower curtain firmly closed.

“I – I – the door was open!” is all Beca can think to reply as she tugs at her robe. It gets caught on the hook several times before she finally pulls it free and shoves her arm into a sleeve.

“Yeah, but not for you!”

“I – what?”

“Why are you still here? Go find Chloe!”

“Right!” Beca finishes tying her robe, her face burning. She stoops to collect her shower caddy then flings the door open and lunges out. She slams it closed behind her, then rests her back against it, shutting her eyes and letting out a shaky breath.

“Having fun?”

Beca gasps and jerks sideways, startled. Chloe, dressed in a purple bathrobe of her own, leans against the wall. She stares at Beca, unsmiling, her eyes narrowed in mistrust.

“Oh god,” Beca stammers, “Shit, that wasn’t – Jessica –”

Chloe’s face splits into a wide grin. “I know,” she laughs. “That was hilarious.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Beca breathes in relief, lifting a hand to the back of her neck. “Why weren’t you in there?”

“I texted you,” Chloe says, reaching for Beca’s hand and leading her to her bedroom. “I didn’t know about it until I went to the bathroom, and someone was already in there. She must have gone in right after you went upstairs.”

“So you decided to ambush me?” Beca huffs, closing Chloe’s door behind them.

“No,” Chloe replies. “I went to text you and didn’t see you come down. Then Jessica screamed.”

“Oh my god,” Beca groans, leaning back against the door. “That was horrible.”

“Sorry, babe,” Chloe grins, stepping close. “Any way I can make it up to you?”

“Uh…”

Chloe’s nose nudges her own and Beca tilts her head automatically to chase a kiss. Hands arrive at the collar of her bathrobe, sliding under the material to trace over her collarbones and circle around her shoulders.

“I can think of one way,” Chloe whispers against her lips.

A whimper escapes the back of Beca’s throat as Chloe’s hands retract from her robe, only to drop to the sash around her waist. She watches Chloe’s fingers tug at the hasty knot, undoing it easily and allowing the robe to fall open. Beca shivers as cool air rushes under it, but then Chloe’s warm hands slide around her waist and up her back.

“Chlo…”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Chloe pushes the robe from Beca’s shoulders; Beca lets it fall, feeling it pool around her feet on the floor. Stepping back, Chloe unties her own bathrobe and slides it off, rolling her shoulders to dislodge it. The muscles in her arms coil and flex as Beca’s eyes follow the bathrobe, tracking it as it slides down Chloe’s arms, her fingertips disappearing into the sleeve, then reappearing as the fabric drops off her body to land behind Chloe on the floor.

Beca swallows hard, her knees weakening.

With a small smile, Chloe presses close again, hands landing on Beca’s hips. Beca leans reflexively into the touch, her arms looping over Chloe’s shoulders. Chloe moves forward to press a light kiss against Beca’s lips even as her hands push Beca’s hips back and into the door behind her.

“Can I touch you?” Chloe breathes, her fingertips creating burning trails up and down Beca’s sides.

Beca’s back arches forward, pushing their breasts together. “Always,” she whispers, widening her stance and leaning against the door more heavily.

Chloe’s eyes seem to sparkle as she again kisses Beca softly, tilting her head. Beca waits for her to deepen the kiss, but she never does; instead, Chloe’s lips drop to her neck, featherlight against the bruises still prominent there. She continues in her path, pressing her lips to the peak of each of Beca’s breasts.

She moves lower, and Beca can only watch, speechless, as Chloe drops to her knees in front of her. Lips trail down her abdomen at the same time hands drop from her hips to land on her calves. Breathing hard, twitching against the door, Beca moves her hands from Chloe’s shoulders to rest one on the top of her head, weaving into red tresses, and plants the other on the wall beside the door for support.

With a wink, Chloe leans forward to place a single kiss against her, several inches below her navel. Beca’s eyes flutter and she shifts so her legs are spread even further. Chuckling softly, Chloe pulls back to make eye contact as her hands slide in tandem up Beca’s legs, over her calves, tickling at the backs of her knees, and inching slowly up the outsides of her thighs.

“Feels nice,” Beca sighs, loving the way Chloe’s eyes brighten still further.

“Good,” Chloe says softly. “Ready?”

Beca nods, shivers running down her spine in anticipation. One of Chloe’s hands moves back down to her knee, guiding Beca’s right leg to rest over her shoulder. Chloe’s other hand anchors her hip, pressing her into the door. Beca can’t stop the whine that escapes, weaving her fingers a little more firmly into Chloe’s hair and bracing herself against the wall.

She looks down once more, trying to memorize the sight of Chloe kneeling between her legs, eyes big and dark and full of tenderness. The next moment, Chloe’s opening her mouth and leaning in, and Beca’s eyes slam closed as she lets her head fall back against the door.

*******************

_Beca paces around her dorm room, excitement and happiness still tingling through her limbs as she remembers the events of the last several hours. Her fingers tap against her thighs and she can’t stop smiling, which is annoying, but also kind of a nice change._

_She had no idea it would be like this._

_She had no idea that Jesse – of all people, Jesse! – could make her feel like this. Full of excitement and hope and happiness._

_Sure, it was really only their first date, but it had been much more fun than she had ever thought it would be. As soon as he’d dropped her off after the date, she’d been quick to text a “Can you come over?” to Chloe, who had been extremely interested in her new relationship._

_Chloe, ever the supportive friend, had rushed over in less than ten minutes, her arms full of blankets and, strangely, ice cream, which Beca stored in the freezer of her mini-fridge. She figured it was to celebrate the great date, which, fine by her._

_Now, Chloe sits on Beca’s desk chair and watches her pace around. Her expression seems strange, almost like she has a stomach ache or something, but Beca can’t concentrate on anything else besides telling her how great her date had been._

_“... and then, he took me to this scoring room in the city, where they produce the music for a lot of big movies! It was so cool, Chlo! I mean, it’s still movies, but like, even getting into the studio was awesome, and it was almost like being in a music production booth.”_

_Chloe nods, her smile not quite meeting her eyes._

_“And then! We went for dinner at this kinda fancy place… I felt a little underdressed, but no one really cared, and he paid for lobster and steak, and all this really fancy food that I’d never buy myself.”_

_“That’s – that’s so nice,” Chloe says, glancing at the door._

_“He was great, too, holding the doors open and pulling out my chair for me, and all the usual things. I mean, it was a little weird, but, like, just the effort was nice, you know?”_

_“Yeah, for sure,” Chloe replies._

_“Yeah, it was a really, really good time,” Beca says, pausing in her pacing to look at Chloe more closely._

_Under her scrutiny, Chloe seems to snap back to herself. She blinks several times and says, her voice sounding off (maybe she’s getting sick?), “I’m so happy for you, Bec. You… you deserve someone great.”_

_And even if Chloe’s voice sounds weird because she’s getting sick, it makes Beca hesitate. She takes in Chloe’s tense posture, uncharacteristically small and hunched in on herself, and how quiet she’s been._

_Guilt crashes over Beca, rolling through her stomach and making her want to clap a hand to her forehead._

_Duh. She’s so stupid._

_Chloe’s jealous. She’s been alone since the stupid Shower Boy (Beca doesn’t even like to think of him) visited, so it can’t be fun for her to hear all about Beca’s dating life._

_“Oh, thanks, Chlo,” Beca replies, a hand rising to rub at the back of her neck. “You deserve someone great, too, you know? It’ll happen, for sure.”_

_Chloe’s face twitches, and Beca wonders if she’d somehow put her foot in her mouth. A second later, though, Chloe half-smiles at her. “Yeah, for sure. Definitely.”_

_Beca grins in relief, then gestures to the fridge. “So… you wanna eat that ice cream, or…?”_

_Chloe nods and Beca turns to find spoons for them to use. Digging through her desk, she says over her shoulder, “Oh, and you can sit on the bed. I don’t know why you didn’t just do that in the first place, weirdo.”_

_“Right,” comes the faint reply from behind her, and Beca hears shuffling and the delicate squeaking of bed springs as Chloe moves._

_“Cool, I’ll just join you then,” she says, finally finding two spoons and inspecting them for cleanliness before moving over to the fridge to extract the ice cream._

_As she does, she thinks she glimpses Chloe wiping at her eyes, but figures it must just be her imagination; Chloe never cries._

*******************

Beca is about 90% positive she’s going to throw up.

She paces the living room, hands balled into fists, while Chloe sits on the couch with her legs tucked under her, alternating between watching Beca and checking her phone. Beca’s skin suddenly seems too small for her body, somehow, and the same rapid, irritating beat plays on a loop in her mind. She’s only glad that the rest of the Bellas aren’t seeing her in this state, holed away as they are somewhere upstairs to give her and Chloe some privacy to meet Chloe’s parents when they arrive.

Make that 93% barf-positive.

Beca has yet to respond to her own father, and she hasn’t heard from him or from the step-monster since Warren’s text a few days ago. She completely intends to respond to him, but she’s still recovering from the weekend and she likes the idea of making him squirm at least a little longer for not defending her.

A car drives past and Beca’s neck cracks at the speed with which she whips around to stare out the window. The car keeps going, however, and the pressure in Beca’s stomach only increases as she resumes her pacing.

“Beca, calm down,” Chloe sighs, still watching her.

“I’m calm,” Beca replies in a voice most unlike her own.

“You’re muttering.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You are, though.”

Beca pauses in her circuit around the room. Sure enough, the beat in her head breaks, and she realizes she had, in fact, been mumbling in time with it under her breath.

“What if they don’t like me?” she asks, glancing out the window yet again.

“They’ve met you before.”

“Yeah, but – we weren’t dating then! It’s different!”

“It’s really not,” Chloe says firmly, but softens it with a smile. “They know you make me happy.”

“Okay, but do they know we’re sleeping together?”

“Beca.”

“Oh my god, they do!” Beca gasps, horrified by the picture forming in her mind of Chloe gushing all about their sex life over the phone with her parents. “You told them!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not. They probably just wouldn’t be surprised is all,” Chloe adds with a shrug that is far too nonchalant than the situation really warrants.

Beca stares, unable to reconcile Chloe’s words with any kind of logic. Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly. Oh, god, Chloe’s parents are going to _kill_ her.

“Bec, calm down,” Chloe says, eyes widening in alarm at Beca’s panic. “It’s going to be fine.”

Beca glances down at herself, barely registering Chloe’s words as she takes in the casual T-shirt and jeans she’s wearing. “Do I need to change? Put on a – a skirt or something nicer?”

“ _Relax_ ,” Chloe emphasizes with finality, standing from the couch to plant her hands firmly on Beca’s shoulders. “They’re not here to grill you. They’re driving here to take some of my things home. This has been planned for weeks.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the reminder of the lease end-date in less than three weeks does nothing to lessen Beca’s anxiety.

“I – right,” she manages, not quite able to meet Chloe’s eye.

Chloe exhales slowly, raising a hand from Beca’s shoulder to gently cup her cheek. “You good?” she asks quietly.

“Is your dad gonna give me the talk?” Beca mumbles, a slight deflection but still high on her list of worries.

“What?”

“You know. The talk,” Beca repeats, shrugging uncomfortably. “The whole ‘if you hurt my daughter, I’ll launch you to Mars’ talk,” she clarifies, using her fingers to make air quotes.

Chloe’s puzzled expression clears. “Oh!” she exclaims, then looks thoughtful. “No, he won’t. Probably. Why Mars?”

Before Beca can answer, Chloe’s phone buzzes on the couch. Instinctively, they both glance out the window to see a blue midsize vehicle parked at the end of their driveway.

“They’re here!” Chloe declares unnecessarily.

Beca’s stomach rolls violently and she debates hiding behind the couch even as Chloe releases her in favor of rushing to the front door. Beca isn’t sure what to do – should she follow Chloe? remain standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room? – but before she can make up her mind, Chloe flings the door open in excitement, emitting a loud squeal of joy.

Her parents, Cheryl and Eric, stand on the doorstep grinning in at her. Even though Beca’s met them before, but it still surprises her how much Chloe looks like her mom; there might as well be an older version of Chloe standing at the door, red hair a little more muted and face more lined, but with the same blue eyes and facial structure. Eric is tall, his red hair thinning, and he has a friendly smile set firmly in place. He only has eyes for his daughter as Chloe ushers her parents into the house.

“Hi, sweetie!” Cheryl exclaims, pulling Chloe into a hug.

“Hi Mom! Hey Dad!” Chloe responds happily from her mother’s arms.

“Hello!” Eric greets her, glancing theatrically around the house. “Where’s the elevator at? I don’t like the idea carrying boxes up all these stairs.”

“You could always slide down them,” Beca jokes without thinking, her face warming just a little when Eric and Cheryl – who finally releases Chloe – turn to look at her. She gives a quick half-wave, trying to seem cool and casual and not at all like someone who was pacing and muttering to herself two minutes ago.

“Oh, hi, Beca!” Cheryl beams at her. The next thing Beca knows, Cheryl’s pulling her forward and into a bone-crushing hug.

“Oof – hi, Mrs. Beale!”

“Oh, none of that, we’ve said before. Call me Cheryl and call him Eric. Or whatever you feel like.”

“Uh, okay,” Beca agrees, catching Chloe’s eye over Cheryl’s shoulder; Chloe only grins.

“Beca volunteered to help carry some things,” she says.

“Oh, that’s so nice!” Cheryl pulls back from the hug, but keeps her hands on Beca’s arms, reminding Beca forcibly of Chloe. Beca tries to smile, wanting to seem calm, confident, and assured, like someone anyone would want their daughter to date.

“Dear, you look petrified,” Cheryl says.

“Do I?” she manages. Behind Cheryl, Chloe raises a hand to her mouth to hide a wide smile.

It’s different when Cheryl calls her dear than when Sheila says it. Beca likes it.

Cheryl studies her carefully, her eyes jumping between both of Beca’s as she releases Beca’s arms. After a moment, she says sincerely, “We were so excited to hear the news of you two getting together. Honestly, it makes us so happy.”

“Really?” Beca blurts, surprised.

“Really,” Eric smiles and leans forward. “We’ve heard so much about you, and we can’t wait to get to know you even more.”

“I… well,” Beca huffs, taken aback by how nice Chloe’s parents are being. It’s unexpected and unprecedented. “Thank you. I’m happy to get to know you more, too,” she says, and she means it.

“Great,” Eric says, then turns to face the stairs. “Well, no time like the present. Are you two ready to move some stuff?”

“Oh, we’re ready,” Chloe says, moving around Cheryl to link her arm through Beca’s and press a kiss to her temple. Beca tenses, but Cheryl and Eric only smile at them. Beca relaxes slowly, leaning into Chloe’s affection as Chloe continues. “Beca’ll be a lot of help! She’s great with her hands.”

Beca tenses again and shoots Chloe a glare; Chloe’s expression freezes as she realizes what she’s said.

There’s a very pregnant pause. Eric’s eyebrows are raised, but Cheryl looks amused.

“Oh?” she asks politely.

“Yep,” Beca says in a rush, “I can lift – um, carry a lot of – yep, boxes.”

The tension breaks, and Eric grins. “Let’s get started, then,” he says, turning toward the stairs. Cheryl follows, and Beca only has time to glare at Chloe, who shrugs, and they’re following Chloe’s parents up the steps to her room.

* * *

It’s hard packing up portions of Chloe’s room. It’s just another reminder that their futures are up in the air. Unless they hear back soon about their respective applications, in just a few short weeks, they’re going to be headed in opposite, unknown directions.

“Do you need these books, honey?” Eric asks, gesturing to Chloe’s mostly-full bookshelf.

“Um…” Chloe moves over to the shelf, examining the titles there. “Maybe leave _Jane Eyre_ and _Eleanor and Park_ , but the rest can go with you,” she decides and hands her dad a box to start packing away the extra novels.

“What about all the clothes?” Cheryl asks, peering into Chloe’s closet.

“Let’s take most of the sweaters,” Eric suggests. “It’s supposed to stay warm.”

Chloe agrees and moves to the closet to help her mom sort through the numerous outfits stored in there. Beca goes to Chloe’s dresser, starting to dig through for anything heavyweight that Chloe won’t need.

She opens the first drawer and sees an assortment of bras and lacy underwear; she slams the drawer closed, only to hear a soft chuckle behind her.

“I’ll help you with that one,” Chloe says, joining her at the dresser.

“Good idea,” Beca mutters, checking whether Eric or Cheryl had seen.

They work as a team, steadily pulling outfits from Chloe’s closet and dresser, until the closet starts to look barren and the dresser volume is significantly reduced. They pile the extra clothes onto Chloe’s bed, where Eric folds them somewhat haphazardly and organizes them into a series of boxes.

Chloe’s mom surveys the pile of clothes being sent home, double-checking with Chloe that they haven’t missed anything.

“You don’t need these blouses?”

“No, I’ve got another bunch still here,” Chloe says.

“This dress?” Cheryl holds it up.

“Nope, that can go.”

“Um… any pajamas here we can take?”

“Chloe usually sleeps naked,” Beca says, then freezes in horror.

Eric pauses in his folding and looks up at her, eyebrows lifted once again. Cheryl’s staring at her, too.

Chloe rolls her eyes.

“Um,” Beca manages, “Uh, because it’s summer, so it’s, you know, it’s hot out, and –”

“Yeah, it’s comfy,” Chloe cuts her off, looking totally unperturbed.

Eric is still staring at Beca, but Cheryl shrugs. “Less to pack,” she says, then returns to taking stock of Chloe’s room.

Eventually, Eric resumes folding, and Beca puffs out a silent breath of relief, though she wishes a hole would open in the floor under her feet. Then Chloe glances at her, laughing with her eyes, and Beca allows herself a small smile in response.

Yeah. Chloe’s parents are pretty cool.

* * *

After nearly two hours of organizing and sorting, Beca and Eric carry the final boxes – one containing extra perfume and the other Chloe’s school supplies – down the stairs and out to Chloe’s parents’ car while Chloe and Cheryl wait for them in the living room. As she carries her box out of the house, Beca tries not to let herself dwell on how much emptier Chloe’s room looks now that there are only enough possessions in it to last the barely two weeks they have left in the Bella house.

She places her box in the trunk of the vehicle amongst the stacks of other boxes, leaving room for Eric to place his. Once he does, and the car is loaded, he reaches up to close the hatch. Beca watches it shut, trying not to imagine all that stuff as it was, arranged carefully in the room Chloe has occupied for six years.

“So, this must be strange, huh,” Eric says, and Beca glances over to see that he’d been watching her.

She nods and says, “Yeah, the whole moving thing is really… it’s different.”

“It seems like you two have had a lot of good times here.”

“We have,” Beca smiles. “All of the Bellas, actually. It’s been fun,” she says, wanting to laugh at her own understatement.

Eric leans against the back of the car, looking at Beca thoughtfully. “It must have been a lot of work, co-captaining them all,” he says. “Chloe talked a lot about how much pressure it was, taking charge. Being responsible for that many girls.”

Beca shrugs. “Well, we helped each other out a lot. Split up the work, that kind of thing, you know?”

Eric nods. “I’m glad you were there to help Chloe out,” he says. “I don’t think you realize how big of an impact you made in her life.”

“Oh, uh,” Beca rubs at the back of her neck, at a loss for words. “I mean, it’s – thanks, dude,” she says, cringing inwardly at herself.

“Of course,” Eric smiles. “And, uh, Beca, there is something I wanted to say…”

Beca braces herself, already mentally preparing her answers about “protecting Chloe” and how she’s “never going to hurt her” and her “intentions with Chloe.” She shifts her weight nervously as Eric continues.

“But I don’t think I need to,” he says, and Beca feels her eyebrows lift in surprise. “I can tell how you feel about her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I can see I don’t have to worry about a single thing,” Eric smiles at her.

“I – no, you don’t,” Beca says, hoping she comes across as sincere as she feels.

“Good,” Eric says, twisting around to look at the house again. “Now, if I know my wife, she’ll be wanting to take you and Chloe to dinner, so…” he gestures Beca ahead of him.

Still reveling at avoiding a serious “dad talk,” Beca thanks him and leads the way back toward the house. Inside, Chloe and Cheryl stand in wait, along with all of the other Bellas, miraculously materialized from elsewhere in the house to stare at her and Eric expectantly when they walk through the front door.

Eric makes a small noise of surprise at finding ten pairs of eyes on him; Beca winces in sympathy. She’s used to it by now.

“I said they could join us for dinner!” Cheryl says happily, looking thrilled to be surrounded by a horde of hungry Bellas.

“Great!” Eric grins at everyone and waves, recovered from his surprise.

“Hi, Mr. Eric,” Cynthia Rose waves. “Can we go somewhere with a bar?”

“Or with mozzarella sticks?” Stacie suggests.

Amy raises her hand. “Um, I’m banned from Chili’s, so that’s out.”

“I have a skin suit,” Lilly whispers from right next to Chloe’s mom.

Cheryl moves half an inch away from her.

“This’ll be great!” Eric says, clapping his hands together. “Um… separate cars?”

“Beca and I are with you two!” Chloe declares, reaching for Beca’s hand to pull her to her side.

“I’ll squeeze in, too,” Emily adds. “Your car can fit three in the back, right?”

With that, they’re out the door and dispersing to separate cars, still debating on where to go. Beca marvels at how easily Chloe’s parents get along with all of the Bellas, looking as interested in each of their lives as they are in Chloe’s. As Eric asks Cynthia Rose about her fiancée, Beca catches Chloe’s eye; Chloe smiles her megawatt smile, clearly thrilled that her parents get along so well with everyone.

Something twinges in Beca’s chest and, figuring she has some time before any dinner decisions are really made, she pulls out her phone and starts typing a message to her dad. As she does, she remains next to Chloe, leaning into her side in all the chaos, knowing there’s no place she’d rather be.

 


	21. Chapter 21 - Chloe

Chloe stares at her laptop screen in shock.

Everything around her fades away; the music from the playlist Beca made for her, the occasional evening traffic sounds from outside, and even the muted voices of the Bellas downstairs. At this moment, the only thing that matters in the entire world is the email she received ten minutes ago.

 

Dear Ms. Beale:

Congratulations! Please consider this your formal acceptance to the Brooklyn Animal Care Veterinary Internship program!

We were impressed by your attention to detail in your application, as well as your optimistic attitude and record of community service. What most made you stand apart from other applicants was your impressive amount of leadership experience; we believe this experience makes you uniquely qualified for a potential Intern Manager position with our staff during the duration of your time here.

Though your training will not begin until September 1st, we had several other highly-qualified candidates and would appreciate notice of your acceptance or denial of our offer no later than August 8th.

Please don’t hesitate to reach out should you have any questions about the position or the hiring process.

Sincerely,

Brooklyn Animal Care Staff

 

She’s read it end-to-end seven times, the meaning sinking in slowly. She glances at the date in the corner of her laptop screen: August 4th. That gives her four days to decide.

It’s not like she really has to consider other offers. Though she’d applied all over the country, the Brooklyn program had been her top choice; their program is the best of those she applied to, and the idea of living in New York sends a thrill of excitement shooting through her. It’s novel and ensnaring and something she’s wanted for herself for a while.

The only thing that’s keeping her from immediately accepting is Beca. Or, more exactly, the relationship she has with Beca and how much it means to her.

Beca has heard back from exactly one of her many job applications so far. Two days ago, a music producer based in Houston, Texas, offered her a position with an acceptance deadline of August 10th.

How far away is Houston from New York? A thousand miles? More?

Chloe pulls up Maps online; the distance from Brooklyn to the center of Houston is 1,419 miles.

It’s too far.

Chloe pulls her lower lip between her teeth and opens a new internet tab: veterinary internships Houston TX. There are more than 60 results. She could do it. She could fill out an application right now.

Her hands twitch on the laptop keyboard, and for an instant, she seriously considers it. It wouldn't take long. She just has to copy and paste a lot of the information from her other applications.

Chloe leans forward with a groan to rest her head in her hands.

It would never work. Even with her application materials prepared, there’s no way she could complete multiple applications, the subsequent phone interviews, and hear back from them in the span of the four days she has to either accept or decline the position in Brooklyn.

Chloe groans again, frustrated. She’s fully aware that the rational thing to do in this situation is for her and Beca both to accept their offers, as long as no one else contacts either of them in the next few days. They need jobs, and their lease is about to end. The “adult” thing to do would be to say yes to the offers.

And yet.

They do still have some time before they have to decide, and it’s possible that they might actually manage to get offers from within the same city. Maybe. If the aca-gods are in their favor.

Chloe’s eyes prickle and sting. It’s not fair. They should have all the time in the world to be together, rather than potentially having to live across the country from one another. Chloe knows that in reality, Beca’s job prospects are much more limited than hers; every city needs veterinarians, and those veterinarians need internships. Big-name music production jobs are much less common. If she really doesn’t want to live apart from Beca, then it makes the most sense to follow Beca to wherever she goes.

It’s just. Brooklyn’s program is really the best, and Chloe knows Beca would want her to follow her dreams and go there.

They haven’t been dating long, but already, Chloe can’t imagine a future without Beca. She thinks it might have to do with how long they’ve known each other, or maybe even that she’d stayed at Barden all this time to be with Beca. Either way, she’d never liked the thought of leaving Beca, and now that Beca has made her into the happiest person in the world, the thought of separating from her is borderline unendurable.

The words “Beca” and “forever” are linked in her mind, no matter how impractical that may be this early in their dating relationship. Chloe knows it should probably scare her – being this dedicated to someone so soon – but it doesn’t.

It has all become alarmingly simple.

Chloe and Beca, Beca and Chloe, Chloe and Beca, _Beca and Chloe_.

*******************

_Telling Aubrey is probably the worst part about not graduating the second time._

_“What do you mean you ‘failed again?’” Aubrey practically screams over Skype._

_“It’s fine,” Chloe says, trying not to wince at Aubrey’s volume; if Aubrey senses weakness, she’ll pounce. “I’ll just try again next year.”_

_Aubrey groans, the computer mic distorting her voice and making it crackle. “Chloe. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”_

_“I don’t –”_

_“Oh, don’t give me that,” Aubrey insists, looking at Chloe seriously through the camera. “You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re too smart to have actually failed anything, much less – what was it?”_

_“Russian Lit,” Chloe mumbles guiltily._

_“Russian Lit?!” Aubrey repeats loudly. “Chloe, seriously? I know for a fact you have_ Anna Karenina _almost memorized. Don’t pretend you don’t know what you’re doing.”_

_“I mean, Dr. Zhivago is really a hard novel to analyze –”_

_“You’ve read it three times,” Aubrey says, sounding exasperated. “Be honest. It’s the same reason as last year, isn’t it? The Bellas?”_

_“They’re my family, Bree,” admits Chloe, dropping all pretense. “I don’t want to leave her – them. Them,” she says firmly, kicking herself a little and hoping Aubrey won’t notice the slip-up._

_Unfortunately, Aubrey always has been too astute; even through Skype, Chloe can see her eyebrows lift and expression turn satisfied._

_“Mhmm. So how is the little goblin?”_

_“I’ve asked you not to call her that,” Chloe snaps, more defensively than she’d meant to._

_It makes Aubrey’s sly grin widen, and Chloe knows she’s given herself away._

_“But you still know who I mean, even when I call her things like that,” Aubrey replies with a dismissive shrug. “Does she know you’re purposely failing to stay with her?”_

_Chloe feels herself flush, and stutters out, “That’s not – I don’t – you’re –”_

_“Why don’t you move on, Chloe?” Aubrey interrupts, shifting at her desk to lean closer to her laptop. “She’s still with Jesse and – unless you haven’t told me something – she’s still straight.”_

_Chloe looks away from the screen, stung. She doesn’t need Aubrey to tell her these things. She already knows them, painfully well._

_“I – you never know, okay?” she manages after a moment, still unable to look back at Aubrey._

_“Chloe,” Aubrey sighs after a moment, her tone softening so that Chloe’s able to look at her again. “I – I’m sorry, but... you have to know how unhealthy this is. You do see that, right?” she speaks delicately, as if worried Chloe’s going to start yelling at her._

_Chloe’s stomach plummets and she looks away again._

_“I mean… you just… Chloe, if she’s straight, there’s no point in continuing to feel like this. It’s a little – well, it’s unfair to both of you, really.”_

_Chloe swallows hard, Aubrey’s unspoken words screaming in her ears. She can read between the lines. She knows Aubrey is calling her creepy and obsessive._

_On Skype, Aubrey starts to backtrack. “Okay, maybe unhealthy was a little –”_

_“Let’s talk about something else,” interrupts Chloe, not really listening. “Have you heard anything from your dad?”_

_Aubrey stares at her disapprovingly at the blatant subject change but doesn’t comment on it. Chloe breathes a little sigh of relief when Aubrey goes along with it, albeit reluctantly, and starts detailing some of the last postcard she’d gotten from her father concerning probably confidential military operations._

_As she half-listens, nodding and smiling in all the right places, Chloe tries very hard to ignore the faint stirring of guilt in her stomach._

_Aubrey doesn’t need to know she’s already planning on graduating with Beca. She’d probably think that was totally crazy._

*******************

Beca and Chloe forever. At least, that’s how Chloe sees it.

In a few days, though, separation might be their new reality.

A light knock on her door breaks her concentration. It’s okay, though; she can tell by the knock it’s Beca. Smile already spreading over her face, Chloe calls, “Come in!” As she does, though, she minimizes her email, not wanting to ruin Beca’s mood by bringing that whole mess up. She’ll tell Beca, just, not yet, at least if she can avoid it.

The door opens and Beca slips in, leaving it cracked open behind her. Chloe relaxes at the familiar sight of Beca’s crooked grin and giggles at the dramatic way she throws herself on Chloe’s bed, bouncing against the mattress before sitting upright.

“Hey,” Beca says, “you busy?”

“Not really,” Chloe shrugs, careful to keep her tone light and casual. “What’s up?”

“Not a lot. Just got off the phone with my dad,” Beca answers, rolling her eyes, but without menace. “He’s been taking every chance he gets to ask about you and – and us,” she adds, suddenly looking nervous.

“How’s that going?” Chloe asks tentatively.

Beca shrugs, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s… not bad,” she says slowly. “I mean, we’ve been talking for a little bit, since your parents came over, and he’s kinda getting it?” Beca says, her voice rising like it’s a question.

“That’s good, though, right?”

“Yeah. It’s – he’s been slowly getting better about it. He didn’t say anything totally offensive this time, anyway,” Beca huffs.

“That’s good. Uh, and…?” Chloe trails off, uncertain.

“Sheila?” Beca asks, and Chloe nods. A corner of Beca’s mouth lifts contemplatively. “I mean, she’s – radio silence,” she says grimly. “It’s like my dad said – she’s just kinda like that, and I’m not sure she’ll change. He’s trying to talk to her, though, a little at a time. We’ll see,” Beca finishes in a tone that tells Chloe she’s done talking about it.

“Okay,” Chloe says. “So, we’ll, uh, we’ll work with that.”

“Yep,” Beca says, tracing her fingers over Chloe’s bedspread. Chloe has to suppress a smile and ignore the natural swoop in her stomach at seeing Beca on her bed; Beca’s been spending most nights in her bed lately.

“But, anyway,” Beca clears her throat, and Chloe hauls her mind out of the gutter so she can listen. “Was also wondering if you wanted to come shopping with me,” Beca asks. “Just to the mall or something, maybe.”

“Did you have something in mind?” Chloe asks, pushing away from her desk and moving to sit next to Beca at the end of her bed. It’s not often that Beca willingly goes to a place involving large amounts of other people.

“Well,” Beca tilts her head and reclines back to an elbow, her torso twisted toward Chloe. “Mostly I want to check out what they have for, like, uh, parting gifts? I guess? For the Bellas.”

“... Oh my god.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

Chloe can’t stop the huge smile she feels spreading over her face. Chloe wants more than anything to tease Beca (and mercilessly) for being such a softie but decides to take pity on her pinkened cheeks and stubbornly set jaw.

“We can do that,” she says. “It’s a great idea. Did you have anything in mind?”

“Nah, I just want to see what they had, you know?”

“Oh, uh, okay, yeah, we can probably –”

“Are you okay?” Beca interrupts, leaning forward, her eyebrows drawing together in concern.

“Hmm?” Chloe feigns innocence while panicking internally.

Beca’s frown deepens and her eyes flick between both of Chloe’s intently. “You seem a little… I don’t know. Not quite here, I guess. Just kinda off.”

“I mean, it’s nothing.”

Beca shrugs. “If you don’t want to talk, it’s okay, I just want to make sure everything is, you know, chill, or whatever.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I just, um…” Chloe hesitates. She hadn’t planned on telling Beca quite like this, but she doesn’t like the idea of keeping anything a secret from her. “I’m… I was accepted to the Brooklyn internship,” she finally expels in a rush.

Beca’s eyes fly wide and her mouth pops open in what Chloe knows is excitement. “Dude, you got in!” she exclaims, bolting upright.

“Yeah,” Chloe says and grins despite herself.

“ _Dude!_ That’s awesome, congrats!”

Beca lunges forward, reaching for Chloe’s face, and pulls her into an excited and somewhat sloppy kiss. Through it, Chloe can tell Beca is genuinely happy for her, and that both invigorates and saddens her. It makes her decision that much harder.

Beca pulls back first, her hands still cupping Chloe’s cheeks.

“I’m so proud of you, Chlo,” she says sincerely.

“Thanks, it’s really… I’m excited,” Chloe says, then winces internally at the obvious strain in her tone.

Beca’s smile falls slowly and she pulls away, dropping her hands from Chloe’s face to she can study her more closely.

“Are you?” Beca asks, softly this time. “Excited, I mean?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Chloe half-shrugs, and looks away from Beca and toward her desk, where her open laptop almost seems to mock her. “It’s kinda far from Houston.”

Beca stills next to her, and Chloe glances over to see her looking down at the bedspread between them.

“Why does that matter?” she asks carefully.

“Beca, you know why it matters,” Chloe says.

Beca’s hands twitch in her lap.

“I mean… it – yeah. Brooklyn kinda is far away from Houston, yeah,” Beca agrees after a second.

“I could turn it down, maybe try for something closer,” Chloe’s quick to say, but Beca’s already shaking her head seriously.

“No way, Chloe,” she says firmly. “No way. I thought you’d always wanted to go to that program, right? You said it has a super high vet school acceptance rate.”

“Yeah, it – it does…” Chloe admits slowly, grateful Beca had remembered that detail about her program search.

“Okay, so you should go there, right? So you can get into vet school later?”

“Beca –”

“Look,” Beca cuts her off gently, “Chlo, I don’t want to be that couple that holds each other back from doing what they really want to do.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Baby, I’m worried I would,” Beca says, staring down at her lap. “You’ve been talking about their program for a while. Isn’t it what you want?”

“Yeah, but I want you, too.”

“You can have both, Chlo.”

“Beca –”

“What if we were switched?” Beca asks suddenly, looking back up. “What if I had wanted to go to LA and gotten an offer there?”

Chloe refuses to look at her. “That’s not the same,” she says.

“Yes, it is.”

“I…” Chloe sighs and rubs a hand over her face. She knows exactly what Beca’s doing, and she knows she’s _right_.  “I’d tell you to go,” she finally concedes.

“Yeah,” Beca nods, reaching for Chloe’s hand to pull into her lap. “So this is me, telling you that you should follow what you’ve been working for.”

Chloe pulls her lower lip into her mouth, worrying at it with her teeth. When she doesn’t say anything, Beca runs her thumb over the back of her hand.

“What is it?” she asks softly.

“I just...” Chloe starts, then has to pause to swallow the lump in her throat before she can continue. “It’s not fair.”

She knows it’s childish – life isn’t fair to anyone – but she wants to complain, at least a little bit.

“What isn’t fair?”

“This!” Chloe exclaims, finally looking up at Beca. “This whole stupid thing! We just got together and now we might be pulled apart! It’s not fair!” she finishes, her voice cracking.

Beca stares at her for a long moment, eyes wide. “I – yeah, I know,” she finally starts, and Chloe watches as determination take over her features. “It’s not fair. But, listen – having a long-distance relationship is not the end of the world.”

“I didn’t –”

“I know it’s not ideal, but it’s not the end of the world,” Beca repeats, speaking louder. “We don’t have to end just because we’re not living together, okay? There’s – there’s text, and calls, and Skype, and – we have options,” Beca says. “And, you know, lots of people make it work. We can too, okay, if we have to. And it won’t be forever.”

Chloe shrugs, then nods slowly. A trickle of hope moves into her chest.

“And,” Beca continues, “I still haven’t heard back from, like, a ton of jobs. I’m not gonna go to Houston if I can help it, okay?”

“Okay,” Chloe whispers, squeezing Beca’s hand.

She’s right. If anyone can do it, it’s them. It’s not ideal, but it wouldn’t be forever.

“Besides,” Beca adds a second later, her tone lighter as she nudges their shoulders together playfully, “Houston gets, like, _super_ hot in the summer, and you know I don’t do well in the heat.”

Chloe snorts at that, and a small smile grows on Beca’s face. Chloe doesn’t say anything, but Beca’s still watching her, her expression tender.

Reaching forward to push a strand of Chloe’s hair behind her ear, Beca says, “And, um, if you’re really not sure… think on it for a bit, maybe, and we’ll go from there? I might even hear back from some places by… when do you have to tell them?”

“The 8th.”

Beca’s eyebrows lift, but then her expression arranges itself into something more neutral.

“Okay, so, the 8th,” she says, and Chloe can tell she’s forcing her casual tone. “That’s… yeah. I still think you should do it, though, because it’s what you’ve been wanting for a while.”

It sounds so simple coming from her mouth. Chloe knows Beca is just as terrified by the looming moves as she is, but she sounds so confident and assured in that moment that Chloe instantly relaxes.

“Sounds good,” she breathes, some of the tension lifting from her chest.

“Good,” Beca says, then stands from the bed, still tugging on Chloe’s hand. “And, in the meantime, would you like to dance with me?”

“What?” Chloe blinks up at her, surprised.

Beca’s grin only widens. “We need to celebrate this, and I don’t have any cake with me, so… dance?”

“You’re so weird,” Chloe says, but then she allows Beca to pull her to her feet and into a quick kiss. Beca’s lips move languidly against her own, their familiar taste reminding Chloe of crackling campfires and warm movie nights and exhilarating performances and _home_.

After a moment, Chloe has to pull back, slightly breathless. “Do you have music?” she asks.

Beca tilts her head, mock offended. “Duh, who do you think I am?” she asks incredulously.

Chloe smiles as Beca waggles her eyebrows overdramatically and pulls her phone from her pocket. She scrolls for a second, then taps on the screen, turns up the volume, and La Roux’s “Bulletproof” fills the room.

Chloe’s lips lift at song choice – even though at one time, it had nearly torn the Bellas apart – and Beca sets down her phone face-down on Chloe’s desk so that the music can full the room. Beca takes both of Chloe’s hands in her own, and with one more crooked grin, Beca starts dancing.

She leads them in a kind of jerky swing dance that doesn’t _really_ match the song, but Chloe doesn’t mind; all she can think about is Beca’s hands in hers, guiding her back and forth and side to side in the middle of the bedroom.

They take turns spinning each other, Chloe’s eyes following the trails Beca’s whirling hair makes in the air. Beca backs her into her bed once, and Chloe wobbles dangerously, but Beca tugs her back with a glint in her eye that tells Chloe it might not have been an accident, but an excuse to pull their bodies closer together. As the music ends, Chloe spins Beca one final time and tugs her close to rest their foreheads together, breath mingling and hearts beating in tandem. Beca’s hands slide up her arms to loop around her shoulders, and Chloe rests her hands around Beca’s waist.

Even though the music is over, they revolve slowly on the spot, Chloe’s mind calming and heart racing. Beca nudges forward to brush her lips against Chloe’s, even that barest touch between them sending sparks cascading through Chloe’s entire body. She hums into the kiss, pressing forward just enough to add pressure before easing away again.

“Say yes to New York, Chloe.”

It’s quiet, whispered against her lips, but it still shakes Chloe’s world.

“I’ll need a roommate,” she breathes back.

“Ask the group chat.”

It’s a smart idea. Most of their futures are so up in the air that one of the Bellas is bound to be willing to move to New York with her.

(She wishes it could be Beca. More than anything, she wants it to be Beca.)

But she has to think practically.

“Okay,” Chloe agrees. “I’ll ask them.”

“Okay,” Beca smiles, then pecks Chloe’s lips again. “So… about that shopping trip?”

“You got it,” Chloe whispers, and she lifts a hand to trace her thumb along Beca’s cheekbone before she (reluctantly) pulls from Beca’s arms to text the group chat and find her purse.

 


	22. Chapter 22 - Beca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobic slurs, hate language, homophobic behavior, internalized homophobia.

Beca groans in loudly in frustration, earning a dirty look from the store manager, which she returns with interest. Seeing this, Chloe waves at the manager in apology and steers Beca away, leaving the fifth shop they’ve entered since arriving at the mall.

“Be nice…” Chloe warns under her breath.

“Ugh, sorry,” Beca mutters, “but they had literally nothing there.”

She’s tired of navigating the mall’s endless stores, none of which have proven even remotely helpful. Though, Beca realizes, it’s not like she’s been overly helpful, either, not having any concrete idea formed for what would make good parting gifts for the Bellas.

What do you give to people who have been your family for years when you’re all about to go separate ways?

Still, she’s determined to find something. The Bellas are too important for her to give out meaningless trinkets or nothing at all.

“They didn’t have _nothing_ ,” Chloe says, “but they didn’t have anything that screamed ‘Bellas’ either, yeah.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, there’s nothing that seems right.”

“Well, what’re you thinking?” Chloe asks patiently, even though Beca knows if their positions were reversed and Chloe were dragging _her_ all over the mall aimlessly, she’d be irritated. “Do you have a rough idea of what would be good?”

“I’m just not sure if we should do, like, individual things?” Beca answers as they walk past additional stores without any particular destination in mind. “Or eleven of the same thing.”

“Eleven? There are ten of us.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I – I thought maybe, you know, maybe Aubrey would like something, since she really… helped bring… us togeth – uh...” Beca trails off at the megawatt smile growing on Chloe’s face.

As Beca stares, Chloe’s grin widens until she looks utterly delighted. Her mouth opens and Beca’s sure she’s about two seconds from having her eardrums ruptured by a very Chloe-esque gush of excitement, and all because she’s bothering to include Aubrey.

“Stop.” Beca cuts her off seriously. “Stop that right now. I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t make it weird.”

She watches as Chloe’s expression twitches and shifts as she struggles to reign in her enthusiasm. It takes her a moment, but finally, Chloe’s smile fades and she takes on the appearance more appropriate of someone at a serious business meeting.

“Better,” Beca says cautiously.

Instantly, Chloe’s beaming smile breaks free, almost blinding Beca with its intensity. “You are so CUTE! And SOFT!” Chloe squeals with a laugh, turning several heads in their direction.

“Whatever,” Beca rolls her eyes, feeling her own lips lift in spite of herself. If someone had told her three years ago she’d be looking for a Bellas gift to Aubrey, she’d have laughed, too.

Chloe’s shoulder bumps into hers playfully, and Beca glances over at her still-massive smile.

“ _Anyway_ …” she emphasizes, ignoring Chloe’s glee as they continue walking past store fronts. “What do you think about the gift thing?”

Chloe’s fingers lace with her own and she runs her thumb absentmindedly along the back of Chloe’s hand. By now, the action has become reflexive, though it never fails to make her heart stutter. Beca swings their hands between them gently as they navigate around the decent amount of other people in the mall.

“Individual might be nice,” Chloe says slowly, “but then there’s that whole thing where you have to keep everything the same price so it’s fair.”

“Oh, yeah,” Beca agrees, “that gets hard.” She grimaces and adds, “Plus, like – whenever I think of getting something for Stacie, all I can picture is a vibrator, and – no.”

“You’re picturing Stacie with a vibrator? Should I be jealous?” Chloe looks at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

Chloe hums, grinning in satisfaction.

They keep moving through the mall, Beca checking out every store front they pass. They pass a shoe outlet, a video game store, and a kitchen store, none of which stand out. She gets distracted, then, when she looks across the main aisle and makes eye contact with a middle-aged woman, who quickly looks away. Beca looks away too, self-conscious and wondering if maybe her hair is an issue, but a glance in the reflective glass of another store front shows that she looks fine.

“I think the same gifts for everyone is a good idea, though,” Chloe continues thoughtfully. “That way it’s, like, a, you know, like a team gift, since we’re a team.”

Beca nods. “Yeah, okay, I just don’t know what would be good for…”

Her voice again trails off into nothingness as she catches another stranger’s eye, this time, an older man. He’s seated on a bench they’re walking past, glaring in their direction with a heavy frown on his face. As Beca watches, she notices his gaze is fixed low; with a jolt, Beca realizes he’s staring at their joined hands.

Oh. Right.

Beca’s neck warms and her eyes drop to scan the floor in front of them, though she knows that rationally, she has nothing to feel bad for.

“Hmm,” Chloe muses, apparently oblivious of the man’s hostility. “Team… maybe T-shirts? Sweaters… uh, some sort of, I don’t know, memory book?”

“Wh – oh, that could be cute…”

“Beca?”

Beca runs her tongue over her front teeth, looking around carefully. “Listen, Chlo, maybe we should – oh!”

Beca stops talking abruptly when her eyes land on a piercing and jewelry kiosk in the middle of the aisle. It’s like a lightbulb turns on in her mind, the sudden idea driving everything else away.

“Okay, wait,” she says, thinking rapidly. “This might be lame, and you have to tell me if it’s lame.” She glances over, waiting until Chloe nods before continuing, “...But how do you feel about matching necklaces?”

Chloe stops dead in her tracks, her mouth popping open in surprise.

Beca stops, too, dragged to a halt by Chloe’s hand still wound around her own. “Oh, god,” she groans. “It’s lame, isn’t it? Yeah, you’re right, it’s lame. We definitely don’t need to –”

“No, Bec – it’s – that’s a great idea!”

“Really?”

“Definitely,” Chloe says firmly, pulling Beca toward the jewelry kiosk so abruptly it makes her stumble the first few steps and squeak embarrassingly in surprise.

Chloe drags her right up to the counter, moving directly to the necklace section with an excited squeal. She grips Beca’s hand even more tightly, tugging her close and peering down and into the display case happily. Beca glances up at the woman running the stand, smiling a little to half-apologize for their abrupt approach, only for the woman to smile back tight-lipped, her eyes flicking around almost furtively.

A brick scrapes its way down Beca’s throat to drop into her stomach.

Beca mimics the woman and glances around, trying to remain inconspicuous. People around them are probably making assumptions; they’re holding hands, standing at a jewelry kiosk, and Chloe had been obviously excited over something. Her blood runs cold when she realizes there are more than a few people staring over at them now with judgment in their eyes.

Beca forces herself to take a deep breath through her nose. There are “Sheilas” everywhere. 

“What about that one?” Chloe asks, refocusing Beca’s attention on the display case.

She moves closer to Chloe under the pretext of peering down into the case, angling herself so as to block Chloe as best she can from the strangers’ views.

“Um,” Beca says, her eyes landing on the necklace Chloe’s pointing at. She doesn’t want to alarm Chloe by making her aware of the electric storm of hostility surrounding them. The best thing to do would be to find something quickly and get out of the mall before anything happens.

Thankfully, the necklace Chloe has pointed out is a simple one: a standard quarter note on a thin golden chain, with the word “Belle” inscribed along its stem in cursive. It’s small, elegant, and almost too perfect to be real.

“Does that say…?”

“Yes,” Chloe smiles at her, and Beca can’t help but grin back.

“It’s perfect,” she says, grateful it was an easy find.

Chloe beams and squeezes Beca’s hand, which she takes as agreement.

Beca looks to the woman running the kiosk. She has to clear her throat to regain her attention; the woman had been staring hard in the opposite direction. “Um, hi. We’ll take eleven of these ‘Belle’ ones, please, if you have them.”

*******************

_Beca’s watching Pretty Little Liars when she’s 16. She’s only been living with Warren and Sheila for a few months, and this show is overdramatic, but it’s a distraction._

_“Change the channel. I don’t want to see that,” Sheila’s voice sounds from behind her. “I don’t like you watching this.”_

_“Why?” Beca asks sullenly, not bothering to twist around on the couch._

_“I heard they had a lesbian on it. That’s not something you need to see,” Sheila says scornfully. “There never used to be so many gays on TV, and I don’t see why they have to have them on all the shows now.”_

_Beca knows which character Sheila is talking about. In truth, she doesn’t always like seeing that, either; It makes her feel weird, unexpected things that she doesn’t want to think about. She doesn’t really want to do anything Sheila tells her, though, so she ignores her and leaves the show on. With a huff of annoyance, Sheila comes around the couch, snatches away the remote control, and changes the channel herself._

*******************

The kiosk manager raises her eyebrows, but whether at the quick necklace choice or at the sheer number requested, Beca doesn’t know. Still, the woman nods without further comment and kneels to open a cabinet within the kiosk and starts rifling through it, presumably to check her stock.

Even as Chloe leans over the counter in excited anticipation, the back of Beca’s neck prickles and dread floods her senses.

She turns automatically, pivoting so her body fully shields Chloe’s.

“Bec, what –”

Someone tall – she catches a glimpse of a beard and narrowed brown eyes – barrels into Beca’s shoulder, sending her stumbling backward and into Chloe.

*******************

_She’s 18 when Sheila, after graduation, tells her, “Just wait until college, you’ll meet your future husband there.”_

_Beca tries to feign interest, instead of acknowledging the vague disgust she feels at the thought. She wasn’t going to college to meet a husband; if she had her way, she wouldn’t even be going to college at all._

_“What’s the male-to-female ratio of Barden, again?” Sheila asks Warren, who shrugs uncomfortably. Beca has to look away._

*******************

Beca tenses and holds her breath, waiting for a fist to appear in her gut or a shove to send both her and Chloe flying, but it never comes.

Instead, a sharp male voice hisses directly into her ear, “It’s still a fucking disgusting sin, even if you fags are able to pick out rings.”

Chloe gasps in shock and a white-hot pain slices through Beca’s chest; she might as well have been punched, for what those words did to her. The next instant, the man moves on, plowing through them roughly and leaving them staggering. Instinctively, as soon as she and Chloe catch their balance, Beca stares after the him, but can only see the back of his head moving away rapidly.

*******************

_She’s sitting with the other Bellas, staring at Jessica’s (or Ashley’s) laptop in nervous anticipation. The livestream of the Marriage Equality decision plays as they all watch with bated breath. Chloe makes it to the sitting room just in time, the familiar butterflies stirring in Beca’s stomach at the thought of asking her out soon…_

_On the stream, the votes start to appear, each one sending a pang through Beca’s entire body. She watches, ensnared and terrified. It’s going to be close; her heart sinks as she realizes they probably won’t win._

_But then, they do. It’s 5-4, a small margin. It’s amazing and it’s exhilarating and it’s mind-numbing._

_It’s much, much too close for comfort._

*******************

Beca’s body goes numb with shock and fear, even as the man’s head is lost in the crowd.

She looks around; almost everyone near them is staring, wide-eyed.

Beca tugs her hand from Chloe’s.

She does it because she’s not thinking. She does it because everyone is staring at them. She does it because she doesn’t know what else to do.

She regrets it the instant it happens.

Chloe makes a small noise of protest, a hurt little cry that rips Beca apart even more than the man’s words had. She instantly knows that sound is going to echo in her nightmares.

She can feel Chloe’s eyes on the side of her face, can feel the shame warming her neck and face, but all she can do is watch the woman behind the kiosk extract more versions of the music note necklace from her supplies.

Beca swallows.

Chloe’s staring at her, her hand still dangling in the air between them. Beca can’t do anything about it.

She shoves her own hands deep into her front pockets, balling them into fists and digging her nails into her palms so she can feel something besides the crushing weight of Chloe’s accusing eyes on her face.

She wants to reach out. More than anything, Beca wants to reach out to reconnect their hands.

But it’s not safe.

They can’t act like a couple in public. Not when there are people who say things like _that_. Not when there are people who might hurt them.

Beca forces herself to glance over to convey this to Chloe silently – _I’m trying to protect you_ – but Chloe looks away, her eyes dropping to the display case. She shifts, putting a few inches of empty space between herself and Beca.

A heavy lump forming in her throat, Beca looks back behind the kiosk. She watches the saleswoman messily wrap the eleven identical necklaces in tissue paper, moving hurriedly and glancing around anxiously. Heart sinking, Beca wonders if they’d somehow put this woman at risk just for shopping there. She isn’t sure if she should apologize or make some suggestion about the mall security, but her voice lodges behind the growing mass in her throat.

Chloe hasn’t moved. Beca isn’t sure if she’s even breathed.

“Here,” the woman behind the kiosk says roughly, startling Beca. It’s the first word she’s spoken since they arrived. The necklaces, all wrapped, have been placed in gift bag on the counter, with the total price for them displayed on the computer. Beca nods her thanks and hands over her debit card with trembling fingers. The woman swipes and hands it back, Beca signs the receipt without recognizing her own signature, and the bag is shoved in her hand and they’re free to go.

Before Beca knows what’s happening, Chloe is stalking away, refusing to look back. Beca can only follow, jamming her debit card back into her bag haphazardly and half-jogging to keep up. Chloe sets a breakneck pace, her feet hitting the ground – right, left, right, left – more quickly than Beca can manage to keep up with. Red curls duck and weave through people – past a group of teenagers, past a middle-aged man and woman holding hands (why do _they_ get to hold hands?) – as if she’s trying to lose Beca in the crowd.

“Chloe, wait!”

She doesn’t look back.

Beca’s ears are ringing.

She follows Chloe on autopilot, her mind whirling and body quaking.

Time moves in odd gallops.

They’re leaving the kiosk.

They’re walking past the stores they’d already tried – Chloe hasn’t looked back yet.

They’re exiting the mall – surely, Chloe’s about to stop and wait for her. (She doesn’t stop.)

They’re at Chloe’s car – Chloe’s steps, right, left, right, left.

She wonders for a moment, as Chloe climbs into the driver’s seat, if the passenger door will even open for her when she gets there. Chloe shuts her door and starts the car before Beca even touches the handle. When she does, the door does open for her, and she swings herself in and gets the door closed only an instant before Chloe pulls forward from her parking space. Beca scrabbles for her seatbelt, clicking it into place as Chloe drives out of the lot, cutting off another driver at the exit.

The radio is off; Chloe must have turned it off after climbing into the car, because it had been blasting on their way there. They’d sung along with it. That seems like days ago, rather than barely two hours.

Darkness has officially fallen outside, making the interior of the car small and suffocating. Beca glances over; Chloe’s knuckles are while on the wheel, her form rigid in the seat, and jaw clenched so tightly Beca isn’t sure if she’ll ever speak again. Her eyes never waver from the road. A hole opening in her chest, Beca turns to stare out the passenger window without seeing. She shifts in her seat, her movements loud in the otherwise silent car.

She has never felt so lonely in Chloe’s presence.

_I was trying to protect you._

Time continues to move in strange, jerky dollops, and in what could be hours or seconds, Chloe pulls up to the Bella house. Beca sees many of the upstairs lights are on, but not the main living room, and relief washes over her at the thought of avoiding the Bellas tonight.

Chloe parks the car and turns it off. Beca half-expects her to just get out and walk away again, but she doesn’t. Instead, she sits and stares down at her lap, her fingers twisting together.

Somehow, this is even scarier than Chloe walking away from her.

Beca wants to reach out, to soothe the tension she senses between Chloe’s shoulders, but she knows her touch would be unwelcome.

So, she waits, and starts counting in order to keep hold of her sanity.

She gets to thirty-seven before Chloe sighs deeply and looks over at her, making eye contact for the first time since the kiosk. The dullness of her eyes is horrifying.

“Do you still want to be with me?” Chloe asks, looking more afraid than Beca has ever seen her.

_Yes. Yes, more than anything._

_It’s still a fucking disgusting sin, even if you fags are able to pick out rings._

“I…”

She hesitates just a second too long, lost in her own fear of the world.

Chloe’s face pales and, in one fluid motion, she unbuckles her seatbelt and opens her car door. She steps out and closes it, then jogs to the Bella house.

“No, I – wait!” Beca shouts, but Chloe doesn’t look back. She goes inside the house and slams the front door behind her.

Beca’s frozen to her seat, staring dumbly at the house in shock. Two seconds pass, then four, then six, then her brain screams at her to move.

She rips off the seatbelt, swearing when it gets caught on her hand, and shoulders open the car door. She throws herself out, leaving behind the bag of necklaces and slamming the door closed behind her, and then she’s running, actually full-out running for the front door. She flies up the porch steps, flings open the door, and launches herself inside.

A bedroom door slams upstairs, and she knows it can only be Chloe’s. Setting her jaw against the panic threatening to engulf her, Beca bounds up the steps, taking them two at a time. She reaches the second-floor landing and rushes to Chloe’s bedroom door, hand flying to the handle to push her way inside.

Her heart stops.

For the first time ever, Chloe’s door is locked against her.


	23. Chapter 23 - Beca

“Chlo? Chloe, please?”

Beca tries the handle again but it doesn’t budge.

Desperately, she presses her ear – her whole body, really – into the door, expecting to hear blasting music or broken sobs or even slamming furniture. But instead – silence. No sound escapes from Chloe’s room. It’s as if she isn’t even in there.

Terrible, molten dread rolls through Beca’s stomach; she can understand yelling and anger, or even crying and pain. The silence, though, is something else. It’s alien, foreign, and unprecedented. It’s not _Chloe_.

“Chloe, please, open the door, I can’t – let me –” Beca jiggles the handle again, becoming more panicked by the second.

Nothing.

Beca pushes against the door more firmly. “I swear to fucking god, Chloe, I’ll break this door down if –”

The door swings open without warning; Beca hears herself make a strangled squawk of surprise as she stumbles forward, more or less falling into Chloe’s room. She manages to catch herself in time to keep from face-planting onto the carpet; steadying herself, she turns to see Chloe standing behind her, one hand still resting on the door handle. Her face, drawn into a deep frown, turns Beca’s blood to ice.

“Beca –” Chloe starts, her eyes tired and shining with unshed tears.

“Yes!” Beca blurts, hearing the desperation in her own voice. “I do still want to be with you!”

Chloe stops short, the severity of her expression only wavering slightly as her lips part in surprise.

“I do want to be with you,” Beca continues in a rush, “more than anything in the world, and if you would just – just listen to me for two seconds, you could see that.”

Chloe hesitates, her eyes wide, her hand still resting on the doorknob.

Beca holds her breath; dimly, she registers that if Chloe truly hadn’t wanted to hear what she has to say, she never would have opened the door. Beca holds her gaze for a long minute, anticipation pounding in her chest as she waits for Chloe to either kick her out or to start talking.

The stifling tension between them continues. With every beat of her heart, Beca feels the weight of the past hour settling deeper into her lungs. As she’d done in the car, she starts counting.

At twenty-one, Chloe’s eyes slide closed and she lets out a slow breath. She seems to debate internally, then slowly pushes the door closed with a _click_. It’s a quiet sound, but to Beca, it screams of hope.

“I’m sorry about the lock,” Chloe breathes, reopening her eyes. “That was kind of… I shouldn’t have locked you out.”

“It’s okay,” Beca says instantly. “You let me back in. That’s what matters. Are you… can we talk?”

Chloe nods slowly and steps away from the door, still keeping a careful distance between them.

“Okay,” Beca breathes. “I – I messed up. I do still want to be with you, Chloe. I do. Please don’t ever think I don’t.”

Chloe’s eyes, full of fire, snap up to meet hers. “But, no, you – when you pulled away – I mean, Christ, Beca, what did you expect me to think?” she asks, her voice rising in volume with every word.

Beca flinches at the harsh tone and shifts her weight. She shoves her hands into her pockets, digging her nails into her palms. “I know, but I wasn’t – I was trying to protect you.”

“By acting like we weren’t together?”

Chloe’s anger stabs through Beca like a knife.

“Chloe,” she replies, fighting to keep her voice even and steady. “Didn’t you hear what that – that asshole said to us?”

Chloe clicks her tongue dismissively. “Of course I heard, how could I not? It was pretty clear.”

“Well, then, you should realize I was trying to protect you from that!” Beca insists, agitated warmth rising in her neck.

“I –” Chloe stops mid-shout and runs a hand roughly through her hair. She glares at the floor, then looks back up. “Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t need protection?” she asks, voice clipped. “That maybe I didn’t care what he thought?”

“It wasn’t just him, though! It was a ton of people!”

“I _know!_ ” Chloe says, throwing her hands up. “Did you really think I missed all the looks we got? Or the way the jewelry woman treated us, even though we were probably the best sale she’s had all week?”

“I…” Beca hesitates, surprised that Chloe had noticed any of that. She thought she’d done a good job of hiding it from her.

“I saw it all, Beca, and I don’t care,” Chloe says loudly, shaking her head.

Beca’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “You don’t care? Chloe, those people could really hurt us,” she says slowly, emphasizing every word. “Do you understand that?”

“What, by saying things? By staring? So what?”

Beca gapes. “Not just that!” she manages after a moment. “What if that guy had been violent? What if he’d – he’d waited for us in the parking lot or something? Huh?” Beca asks, her voice cracking with distress at the thought. “What if someone saw us drive up and, like, keyed your car or whatever?”

“Beca, that’s not gonna happen,” Chloe sighs, her shoulders slumping. “You’re being –”

“It might! It happens kind of a lot, actually,” Beca argues. She hears the strain in her own voice, but she desperately needs Chloe to get her point.

“That doesn’t mean we should hide all the time,” says Chloe angrily.

“It also doesn’t mean we should – should flaunt it everywhere!”

“Flaunt? _Flaunt?”_ Chloe half-shrieks, her eyebrows at her hairline. “You think being able to do something like hold hands in public is _flaunting_ it?”

“Okay, look –”

“It’s not like we kissed! Or even hugged! Or anything, really!”

By now, Chloe’s voice has risen enough to echo around the room. Beca’s positive the other girls in the house can hear it – she wouldn’t be surprised if they were arranged outside, eavesdropping, with their ears pressed to the wood of Chloe’s door.

“It’s – it’s not safe everywhere to even touch each other, though!” Beca answers, her own voice spiking in volume in response.

“God, you’re acting like you’re ashamed of it! Of us!” Chloe huffs a humorless laugh, full of pain and disbelief. “You sound like you want to go back to being ‘just friends’ in public when it suits what other people expect. Is that what you want? Huh? ‘Gals just bein’ pals?’” Chloe finishes, gesturing wildly

“ _What?_ No, I –” the sarcasm in Chloe’s voice makes Beca’s stomach roll. She has to pause and take a deep breath before she can continue.

“I’m not ashamed, Chlo, Jesus,” she says, again fighting to remain calm. “Never. I’m – I love you, but it’s – we can’t just go around willy-nilly everywhere and not expect to hear some shitty comments.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care!”

“You – what do you mean, you don’t care?”

“I mean I don’t care what other people think! They don’t matter!” Chloe insists, taking a step closer to Beca.

“If it comes down to safety, it definitely does matter,” Beca replies, crossing her arms.

Chloe breaks eye contact to look toward the ceiling. She shakes her head mutely, lower lip pulled between her teeth, and Beca knows she’s fighting back tears. The realization makes her own eyes sting, but she shoves her own tears aside when Chloe looks back at her.

“Christ, Bec, I – I want to be able to be public with this!” Chloe says, her voice hoarse and tight. “I want to be able to shout it from the rooftops! ‘Beca Mitchell is the love of my life!’ I want everyone to know, because you make me happier than I’ve ever been.” Chloe rakes a hand through her hair, gripping it tightly before releasing it. “So for you to – to pretend we’re not together, for you to be embarrassed enough about me to rip your hand away from mine the second someone says the smallest thing, is – it’s – Bec, why are we even doing this then?”

Chloe’s hands flop to her side and she stares at Beca, eyebrows drawn together and chin wobbling dangerously.

“I… you think I’m embarrassed?” Beca starts, surprise and hurt washing over her in equal measure. “God, Chloe, no, of course not! I love you more than anyone, ever, but – the people out there, they aren’t like what you’ve grown up with. There are people who would hate us just because we love each other, and that’s – it’s horrible, it’s unfair, and I hate that it happens, but it does!” she says, her eyes stinging more than ever. “Chlo, you need to listen to me, it’s not always safe to –”

“I don’t care!” Chloe repeats, speaking over Beca. “I don’t. Let them say whatever the fuck they want, let them do whatever they want, as long as I have you. At the end of the day, I don’t care about anyone else, Bec. I just… I want you,” she finishes quietly, her shoulders lifting in a small, almost sheepish shrug.

“You have me.”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” Beca replies instantly, her anger and frustration spiking abruptly, threatening to boil over.

“Oh, really? Because you were sure quick to pull away from me!”

“ _Because I was trying to protect you!_ ” Beca shouts, her voice ripping through her vocal cords. “How many times do I have to say that?!”

The air between them crackles and sparks; Chloe takes a step back, her eyes wide with shock. Beca instantly regrets losing control and lifts both hands to link her fingers behind the back of her neck. She breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to calm herself down.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” she mumbles after several breaths, not quite meeting Chloe’s eyes.

“It’s okay,” Chloe whispers after a beat. “Bec, what…”

The sound of her nickname acts as a security blanket, wrapping Beca in calm. She draws another shuddering breath and says, “I was trying to protect you. I wasn’t thinking, and I was scared, and I was trying to protect you. I wasn’t – ashamed, or embarrassed or any of that you said, okay?”

She half-expects Chloe to yell more, to start up the fight again, but no. Instead, Chloe moves forward cautiously and into her personal space, her eyes locked onto Beca’s. She reaches forward slowly, fingers quivering, and eases Beca’s hands from the back of her neck to link their fingers together. Beca’s eyes flutter at the first contact they’ve had since leaving the mall and some of the tightness in her chest releases.

“I know,” Chloe breathes. “You’ve always protected me. I should have – I shouldn’t have said those things. I was scared of – of losing you,” she adds, eyes shining. “I’m sorry.”

Beca nods, a lump forming in her throat. “I’m sorry, too,” she says. Chloe’s hands in her own anchor her, reassuring her with a gentle squeeze.

“I just... I want _you_ ,” Chloe whispers. “No one else, just you.”

“You do have me,” Beca promises quietly, squeezing Chloe’s hands in her own. “You have every particle of my being. Don’t you ever worry about that.”

Chloe relaxes immediately, her expression transforming into the loving, tender one Beca has grown accustomed to. She raises a hand to touch Beca’s face, running her thumb down over Beca’s cheek and cupping her jaw lightly. Beca leans into the touch reflexively, pressing a kiss just below Chloe’s thumb.

“Okay,” Chloe sighs. “I… you’ve got me, too. Always.”

Beca exhales shakily, relief washing over her and draining the tension from her body.

“That’s why,” Chloe continues, “I don’t care about anyone else, Bec. Their opinions don’t mean a single thing to me.”

“Still –”

“Still,” Chloe cuts her off, “that’s something we need to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Beca agrees, almost apologetic. She wishes they didn’t need to have this conversation. It’s so unfair.

Chloe smiles tentatively and leads Beca by the hand, guiding her to sit on the edge of Chloe’s bed. It’s automatic, the way Chloe pulls Beca’s hand into her own lap and how Beca scoots close to her side to rest her head down on Chloe’s shoulder.

“So, what are we gonna do about this?” sighs Chloe, briefly resting her head on top of Beca’s.

Beca’s eyes drop to Chloe’s lap, where their hands remain intertwined. She focuses on the lines of Chloe’s knuckles and the elegant way Chloe’s fingers wrap around her own.

“Well,” she huffs, thinking carefully, “I think we – well, we need to decide how we’re gonna do things in public. There are people out there that would hurt us, Chlo. You realize that?”

“I – yeah, I’m starting to, yeah,” Chloe sighs again, sounding tired. “I’ve never… I guess I’ve never really had to think about that kind of thing before.”

Beca lifts her head so she can see Chloe’s expression. Chloe’s eyes blaze at her, full of a fiery determination that rocks Beca to her core.

Chole continues, “It makes me sad, and angry, because the idea that someone could – that they’d hurt you because they see us together is – it’s –”

“I know,” Beca says, swallowing hard. “It’s not right. But we have to consider it and keep in in mind, because there are those people. It makes me sick, but we need to think about it.”

Chloe’s face twists, and Beca winces in sympathy. “Yeah, that’s… I don’t like it,” she says. “But what if… we kinda play it by ear? Like, I still want to be able to hold your hand, but… maybe not in certain places?” her voice lifts at the end, making it into a question.

“Yeah…” Beca agrees slowly, trying to calm her maybe slightly paranoid fears. “And, like, if we feel like there are a lot of people looking at us funny, maybe we should, you know, be more careful.”

“You’re right. It’s – I want us both to be comfortable going out, so maybe if it happens, we should try to, like, communicate whether it’s okay or not. Like today, I should have seen you were uncomfortable and done something different.”

Beca nods in encouragement. “Okay, and, um, maybe we need to accept that sometimes people will say things and there’s nothing we can do. And,” she adds, “if someone does say something, we’ll show them we don’t care. I won’t let go of you again,” she promises, lifting Chloe’s hand to her lips to press a kiss against her fingers.

“Yeah, it’s… I forget sometimes,” Chloe huffs.

“Forget what?”

Chloe shrugs, looking lost. “I forget that not everyone is… I forget that people are like that. I’m really sorry. I don’t like that we have to do this,” she says in a small voice that tears at Beca’s heart.

“I know. I don’t like it either.”

“Maybe in a few years it’ll be different?”

“I hope so,” Beca says, trying to lift the mood. “Like, a lot of people don’t really care. The Bellas don’t care.”

“Right. I guess we should focus on that,” Chloe says, sounding marginally happier.

Beca hesitates, then says, “And in New York… it’ll be different there, too.”

“Yeah,” Chloe says in a strange tone, looking down at her lap.

Beca waits patiently, looking around Chloe’s room, still unused to how barren and plain it looks without many of Chloe’s possessions. The familiar pang of sadness at moving on hits her chest, along with a new fluttering of excitement for what the future might hold for them.

“You really scared me there, Chlo,” she whispers after a moment, eyes fixed on the opposite wall. “When you wouldn’t look at me, I thought…”

“I know,” Chloe sighs, her hand squeezing Beca’s reassuringly. “I’m sorry. I was… really, really hurt that you would pull away like that. That you’d pretend we weren’t together.”

“I didn’t want to do it,” Beca replies quickly, glancing over.

“I know that, now. You were trying to make things better. But Bec… everyone there had already seen. They already knew, so there was no point,” Chloe says gently.

“Yeah, I… yeah.”

Chloe’s fingers trace over the back of her hand, smoothing over her knuckles. She leans into Beca more heavily, pressing into her side.

“So…” Chloe murmurs. “We okay?”

“Yeah,” Beca breathes, running her free hand through her hair in relief. “We’re okay.”

She feels the words as she says them, the little _click_ of their rightness falling into place and settling within her.

They’re okay. They still love each other, and they’re okay. Something as insignificant as a stranger’s ignorant and undeserved hatred isn’t enough to ruin what they have.

Chloe grins properly, sending warmth tingling from Beca’s heart all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. “Good,” she says, “because I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Beca hums in agreement and tilts her head in time for Chloe’s lips to crash into her own. It reminds her of the first kiss they’d shared, hot and blazing but still tender and careful. They’re relearning each other, rediscovering what it’s like to be connected as one. Beca takes Chloe’s lower lip between both of hers and tugs at it gently with her teeth; Chloe sighs into the kiss, parts her lips, and curls her tongue around Beca’s.

There are hands on Beca’s waist, then on her back and in her hair; she pulls Chloe closer, still closer, but it’s not enough. They end up lying in Chloe’s bed facing each other as they kiss again and again. Chloe’s lips dance like sparks across her own, leaving a burning desire deep within Beca’s stomach.

Beca presses herself to Chloe, tangling their legs together. Chloe hums in the back of her throat and shifts her hips, pushing herself against Beca’s thigh at the same time she fits her own thigh tightly between Beca’s legs. Beca’s hips jerk against Chloe, but she slows down, forcing herself to concentrate instead on how Chloe’s inviting lips feel against her own and how Chloe’s warm body feels under her hands.

She runs the tips of her fingers down Chloe’s back, along her spine, making Chloe sigh and arch forward into her. They’re as close as they can be, a mess of tangled limbs and entwined bodies, but it’s still somehow not close enough.

Chloe’s lips turn relentless against Beca’s, impatient and hungry, though still careful and loving.  Her movements honed by a skillful practice, she parts Beca’s lips with her own. She hooks her tongue around Beca’s and pulls it into her own mouth, sucking on it, forming a knot low in Beca’s stomach that makes her hips jolt. It’s hot and dirty and enticing, and it wrecks Beca. She’s simultaneously overheated and chilled, and all she can think to do is press still further into Chloe, raising her thigh still more firmly between Chloe’s legs.

Chloe breaks the kiss with a gasp, drawing a shuddering breath that reminds Beca it’s been a while since _she’s_ inhaled. But to stop doing this for something as silly as oxygen… she licks her lips, takes two breaths through her nose, then pushes forward until Chloe’s flat on her back half-underneath Beca.

A surprised “Oh!” escapes from Chloe, and then Beca leans forward to drop her lips to Chloe’s neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against Chloe’s delicate skin.

“Bec, that’s – god, Bec –” Chloe chokes out, clinging even more tightly to Beca and angling her head to expose more of her neck.

The sound of her name falling brokenly from Chloe’s lips urges Beca to make her kisses firmer, to lick longer stripes up Chloe’s neck, to press into her with her thigh again, and again, and again, until they’re rocking together, the sound of Chloe’s ragged breathing filling Beca’s mind with her favorite music.

Then hands appear in Beca’s hair, tugging gently but insistently until she finds herself lifting from Chloe’s neck in favor of looking into her darkened eyes. Their movements slow, but don’t stop completely; Beca doesn’t press up, but Chloe’s hips continue to rock slightly against her leg as if she can’t stop them.

Chloe pushes on Beca’s shoulders back ever so gently, creating just a hair of space between them that Beca has to force herself not to close. The reason for the space becomes apparent as Chloe’s hands fall out from Beca’s hair, sliding around her shoulders and between their bodies, down over her breasts and stomach to land at the button of Beca’s jeans.

“Do you want to…?” Chloe asks, still breathing hard as her hips continue to roll minutely against Beca’s thigh.

Beca’s body contracts above Chloe and her eyes flutter; she has to force them open and take a breath to collect herself before she can answer Chloe’s question.

“Take me,” she breathes, already hearing how hoarse her own whisper has become.

Chloe’s eyes seem to darken still further, and she presses her thigh into Beca’s center even as she opens the button on Beca’s jeans.


	24. Chapter 24 - Chloe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is NSFW.

Beca has never looked more perfect than she does now: naked, flushed, and straddling Chloe, with Chloe’s underwear the only remaining barrier between them.

She rocks her hips astride Chloe, little nudges forward that send zings of pleasure up Chloe’s spine with every motion. Her darkened eyes flick from Chloe’s face down to her chest; as if drawn upward by the magnetizing stare, Chloe arches her back, straining forward. A smile plays around Beca’s lips, and without further warning, her mouth descends.

Beca’s rougher than usual, the sharp flash of teeth against skin in concert with the hot tongue bathing her making Chloe cry out and wind her fingers into brunette tresses, desperate for some kind of anchor. Beca nips and sucks, capturing the peak of Chloe’s breast between her lips and pulling back until it slides from her mouth with a slick, sloppy noise before dropping to enclose it again. At the same time, her fingers play with Chloe’s other side, kneading and pinching, every touch raising Chloe’s back from the bed, desperate for more.

Then, Beca palms and squeezes her at the same time she firmly sucks skin into her mouth and Chloe gasps jaggedly, her hips lifting into Beca’s. Beca groans around her breast, releasing it as she rests even more of her weight on top of Chloe.

“So impatient,” she mutters, sliding her hand down to rest on Chloe’s waist, where her fingers curl around her side and draw idle patterns that tickle Chloe’s skin.

“You’re taking too long,” Chloe manages, dragging her hands out of Beca’s hair and down her back to squeeze at the full flesh of her backside, loving the way it makes Beca tense above her momentarily.

With a roll of her eyes, Beca kisses down her body, crawling backward, her lips leaving a searing trail down Chloe’s chest and stomach. Her tongue circles Chloe’s navel with purposeful slowness, drawing out the moment until Chloe is forced to melt into the mattress, her hands tangling in the sheets, waiting for the inevitable.

*******************

_She remembers what it was like, the first time she’d seen Beca at the Activities Fair._

_The moment the sunlight illuminated the girl in the red tank top, Chloe had known she was someone special. She remembers the way Beca had become sarcastic, had thrown up her walls and had called a cappella “pretty lame.” She remembers the way it had made her feel, disappointed but intrigued, ensnared by this girl despite her tone and Aubrey’s blatant dislike of her. It had been so much harder than it should have been to watch this complete stranger walk away._

_It had been even harder to contain her excitement when, weeks later, Chloe had heard the most angelic rendition of her lady jam she’d ever heard. She likes to think about that moment a lot, especially the instant Beca had forgotten herself and met her eyes, singing confidently enough to send a thrill through Chloe. Mostly, she likes to think about how stunning Beca had looked. It had been enough to make her forget all about Tom, even though he’d made the special trip to visit her._

_It had been the same when she’d almost kissed Beca during Hood Night, pulling her close. Chloe doesn’t like thinking about how disappointed she is in herself for not kissing Beca then, because now, she’s lost her chance._

_And every day since, every single look, smile, touch shared between them that had made her insides twist and squirm and her heart stutter in her chest, she’d refused to acknowledge because they were just friends._

_Beca is her friend, and to feel anything more is unfair to her._

_They could only ever just be friends, because there’s no other option._

*******************

Beca’s fingers slide under the waistband of Chloe’s panties and tug; Chloe lifts her hips and Beca drags the garment down and off her, flinging it carelessly across the room before she half-collapses between Chloe’s open legs. Beca’s mouth is on her again, staying high, teasing, leaving wet kisses at the skin between her belly button and where her panties covered; Chloe whines and tilts her hips, lifting them up into Beca’s neck, desperate for her to move lower, but Beca only slows her movements, glancing up with a smirk.

“Wait,” she says, ghosting the tips of her fingers between Chloe’s legs and smiling when Chloe’s fingers tighten in the sheets. After a moment, she returns to kissing low on Chloe’s stomach, but gives no sign of moving farther down.

Fine then. If that’s what Beca wants...

Chloe’s hands fly to Beca’s shoulders and she pulls, hauling Beca upward.

“Hey, what are –”

Chloe silences Beca’s question with her lips at the same time she hooks her leg over Beca’s hips and grabs her bicep. She rolls, flipping them, pinning Beca under her, all without breaking their kiss.

Beca exhales hard with surprise, but rather than pulling away, Chloe uses the opportunity to slide her tongue into Beca’s mouth. Beca’s hands land on her back and Chloe rocks forward, her thigh positioned high between Beca’s; it makes Beca groan and turn her head, ending the kiss, and Chloe instead drops her lips to Beca’s neck, trailing along every inch of skin, pulling it into her mouth and sucking, nipping, leaving little red marks, all as she continues to rock forward into Beca.

“Shit, fuck –”

Chloe growls and presses even harder, stunned by the wetness smearing across her thigh as Beca’s hips lift to meet her thrusts. She licks up Beca’s neck, her skin tasting of salt and need, and finds purchase at her pulse point. Her lips close around it and Beca keens, her hands dropping to Chloe’s backside and tugging, bringing her pelvis down and into her own.

With a moan, Chloe shifts her weight to one forearm and palms Beca’s breast with her free hand. Its warm weight familiar, she squeezes gently, making Beca’s back arch up off the mattress with a hiss through clenched teeth.

The next second, the leg Chloe straddles rises, bending at the knee and giving Chloe something to bear down on. She grunts in surprise and has to fight the immediate urge to grind against it, and instead lifts away from Beca, removing her thigh from Beca’s center.

“What? Why’d you stop?” Beca asks breathlessly, her chest still heaving under Chloe’s touch.

“I’m making you wait,” Chloe whispers, though her body is screaming at her to continue. “Isn’t that what you were gonna do to me?”

Beca whimpers wordlessly and her body rolls under Chloe, hips rising but finding no relief. In response, Chloe drops her hand from Beca’s breast and back to the mattress, pulling even farther away.

Beca lets out a frustrated huff, blowing a strand of hair from her face, and lifts an eyebrow. “I suppose you want me to beg?”

Chloe has to restrain herself from leaning to kiss Beca; she looks so adorable that it almost makes her will crumble, but she manages, “Begging wouldn’t hurt.”

Beca rolls her eyes and deadpans, “Oh, Chloe, please, fuck me, I need you inside me.”

Chloe’s lips twitch. “That doesn’t count,” she breathes, but rocks forward once with purpose, making Beca’s eyes flutter. “Try again.”

Beca takes a deep breath, seeming to steel herself. She meets Chloe’s eyes, the playful challenge shining through as she presses her lips together tightly, a silent refusal.

Excitement kindling in her chest, Chloe again shifts her weight to her forearm and brushes her fingers over the peak of Beca’s breast, using only enough teasing force to feel the skin pebble before she reclaims her hand. At the same time, she grinds down onto Beca’s thigh, the friction ratcheting up her own arousal while also making Beca’s hands tighten on her back.

“You’re... soaked,” Beca exhales shakily, and Chloe can feel Beca’s leg tensing against her.

“Mhmm...” It takes all of Chloe’s focus to roll forward and into Beca again, rather than grinding down in search of her own relief, but she does it. She presses her thigh into Beca, feeling that she’s become even more turned on in the moments since they’ve touched.

“Chlo –”

Beca’s gasps turn increasingly needy and raise in pitch; Chloe gives in slightly, sliding her hand down to Beca’s stomach, past her navel, and down to where she pauses, tracing over an invisible line with her fingertips, back and forth.

“What do you want?” she whispers, leaning down to run her tongue over the shell of Beca’s ear, tasting the tang of her piercings.

Beca’s hips lift, then crash back down to the mattress. “God, I –”

Chloe rocks forward again, dropping her mouth to Beca’s collarbone, sliding her lips along it to dip her tongue into the hollow of Beca’s throat, where she can feel the vibrations of Beca’s hums.

“Chlo…”

Beca’s hands twitch against Chloe’s lower back.

“Yes?”

Chloe’s fingers skirt teasingly over Beca, delving between her legs for only the barest instant. At even that hint of touch, Beca’s mouth falls open with a garbled string of syllables and her legs shift; getting the hint, Chloe moves so she’s cradled between Beca’s legs, rather than straddling one.

Chloe’s kisses turn to light nips as she moves down Beca’s chest. She kisses the curve of a breast, then flicks her tongue lightly over its peak.

Beca’s hips rise again.

“What do you want?” Chloe repeats, again drifting her fingers over Beca’s center, marveling at the way her fingers glide over skin.

Beca glares at Chloe, fire in her eyes. “I – that’s –”

Chloe closes her lips around the peak of Beca’s breast and swirls her tongue around it at the same time she rubs a delicate circle onto Beca.

“Chloe – I – shit –”

Chloe glances up, only lifting her eyes so that her lips and tongue never leave Beca’s skin. Beca’s head is pressed back into the pillow, her eyes squeezed tight, the tendons in her neck drawn taut; sensing victory, Chloe drops her hand down, circles Beca’s entrance with one finger, and pushes just the tip of it inside, then stops.

And waits.

Waits.

Holds.

Then –

Beca’s body tenses under her at the same time a huge gust of air escapes from her lungs and she’s shifting her legs and squirming against the bed and panting, “Fucking _fine_ , Chlo, please, baby, please, I need you to –”

Chloe sucks on the skin in her mouth at the same time she presses two fingers forward, gliding into Beca easily.

Beca’s short nails dig into her back as Chloe strokes her, curling her fingers and pulling back, only to press forward again. She revels in the texture she feels, the way her palm meets Beca with every forward movement. She sets a fast pace, ignoring the familiar tension in her forearm as she works.

She releases Beca’s breast, lifting her head to pepper kisses along Beca’s throat, cheeks, and lips as she continues her glide, curl, pull, push rhythm. She’d planned on teasing Beca more, but she can’t wait; Beca’s already twitching around her fingers and panting in her ear and clutching at her back and meeting her every thrust with a rise of her hips.

And then Beca’s breathing even more rapidly and begging, “Harder, go harder,” and Chloe uses her hips to drive her hand forward in sharp, fast strokes that push Beca up the bed, her entire body tensing under Chloe’s until she’s hooking a leg around Chloe and gasping and crying out Chloe’s name as she falls, her body shuddering through it as she tries to pull Chloe even closer.

Chloe watches in awe and continues delicately moving her fingers as Beca gradually relaxes into the mattress, her leg unhooking itself from around Chloe. After it’s passed, Chloe pulls her hand away, watching how Beca’s eyebrows draw together at the loss.

Now that she’s done teasing Beca, the need throbbing between her own legs is becoming unbearable. She debates reaching down to take care of herself; even as she’s licking her fingers clean, she’s already imagining what it’ll feel like to touch herself while Beca watches.

But then – “Come here,” Beca says, swallowing as she catches her breath, and Chloe (somewhat reluctantly) plants both hands on the mattress again to lean forward, expecting a kiss.

“No,” Beca shakes her head, huffing a laugh. “I meant – up _here_ ,” she emphasizes with a tug on Chloe’s hips.

Oh. _Oh_.

Chloe whimpers as need shoots through her – molten, desperate, and coiling low in her gut. She lifts herself from between Beca’s legs and moves off of her to the side, scooting up until she’s level with Beca’s face. They’ve never done _this_ before, and a strange mix of excitement and nerves tingles through her limbs as she watches Beca carefully bunch up her hair, taking her time with pulling it behind her head and out of the way.

“Hurry up,” Chloe hears herself whine before she can stop it.

By the way Beca looks at her, she knows she’s going to regret that moment of weakness, but then Beca’s reaching out and touching her hip with one hand, urging, guiding, until Chloe finds herself hovering over Beca, one knee planted on either side of her head.

“Ready?” Beca asks, her mouth hidden from Chloe’s view. Without waiting for an answer, she blows a stream of air over Chloe’s center.

It makes Chloe’s entire body jolt; choking down a gasp, she glares down at Beca, and almost immediately forgets her indignation at the sight of Beca enveloped between her legs, eyes bright and excited. Mind scrambled, Chloe barely manages to get both hands on the headboard before Beca’s hands land at the tops of her thighs, guiding her down.

Though Chloe had expected it, Beca doesn’t tease; her tongue takes a broad sweep through Chloe, making her cry out and grip the headboard even more firmly, her knuckles turning white. Beca repeats the motion, licking through everything that’s been drenched and on fire for what feels like hours.

Chloe shifts, desperate to somehow spread herself wider, open herself further to Beca; her skin is pulled between lips, licked, sucked on, stroked, Beca’s tongue delving within, Beca’s hands roving over her thighs, over her backside, and sometimes dipping around her hips to drag through her while Beca’s tongue is otherwise occupied. The sound of it – Beca’s moans and hums and the distinct noises from between Chloe’s legs – sends hot spikes shooting through Chloe’s entire body, tightening a knot in her stomach, left tense and waiting for Beca to unravel.

A particularly forceful press of Beca’s tongue drags a slew of sounds from Chloe’s throat and she claps a hand over her own mouth, horrified at the prospect of the Bellas hearing them. She bites down hard on her lower lip, squeezing her eyes closed in effort to restrain the noises she’s making. As soon as she does, the pressure between her legs eases, ebbs, as Beca pauses and drops away.

Bewildered, and more than a little disappointed, Chloe lifts herself slightly and looks down over the panes of her body and between her legs to where Beca lies, her skin flushed, cheeks wet, and lips swollen. Chloe’s hips twitch on instinct, but she blocks the urge to grind down into Beca’s face.

“Why –”

Beca licks her lips and clears her throat. “I want to hear you.”

Chloe’s fingers tighten still further on the headboard.

“The Bellas…” she manages, hearing the rasp in her own voice.

“So?” Beca smirks wickedly.

Just like that, Chloe’s already thin resolve evaporates and a shudder runs down her spine. She groans, and Beca, maybe sensing her weakness, tugs her down and reconnects her mouth, tongue immediately inside. This time, Chloe doesn’t hold back her moan, instead letting it rip free from her chest to fill the room and bounce off the walls. Beca echoes it, pressing her tongue deep and dragging it out slowly.

Chloe’s hips twitch and she folds forward, resting her forehead on her crossing arms on the headboard so that she can look down and watch Beca, whose eyes are closed, lost in what she’s doing. The sight makes Chloe’s chest thrum and she whimpers, pressing down with a hint of pressure.

The hands on Chloe’s ass tighten and Beca shifts forward, wrapping her lips around Chloe’s bud to suck, and this time, Chloe can’t stop her hips from rocking against Beca’s face once. She halts her movements almost immediately, scared to hurt Beca, but Beca only hums and tugs on her backside and thighs, encouraging her grinding.

With a shaky laugh, Chloe leans even more heavily into the headboard and allows her hips to move in time with Beca’s mouth, following Beca’s fast, driving pace until her thighs tremble and shivers run up her spine. She knows she has to be _soaking_ Beca’s mouth and she’s so, so close, straining, ready to snap as Beca’s hands move around her waist and rise to cover her breasts.

Half-delirious, some of the words thrown during their earlier fight rise in Chloe’s mind. Without thinking, she gasps, “God, Bec – how’s this for flaunting it, huh?”

From between her legs, Beca makes a strangled, almost angry noise; before Chloe can climax, before she even really registers what’s happening, Beca drops her mouth away and pushes at her side, shoving her gracelessly off her face. Chloe moves instantly, scared she’d hurt Beca, scared something had gone wrong, and then Beca’s sitting up and pushing Chloe down, backward, until she’s flat on her back, her head at the foot of the bed with Beca’s body on top of hers, settled between her open legs and pressing her into the mattress.

“Jesus, Bec –”

Chloe’s hands fly to Beca’s back, but Beca shakes them off and grabs at her wrists to pin them above her head with one hand, holding them down, restraining her, and Chloe somehow feels herself becoming even more turned on.

Before she can so much as gasp, Beca’s lips crash onto hers, hungry and insistent and tasting of _her_ ; Chloe groans, her body rolling under Beca’s as Beca drives her hips forward with purpose. Beca breaks the kiss and moves to Chloe’s neck, sucking at her sensitive skin, nipping it, until Chloe knows it’s going to leave a huge mark.

“You’re _mine_ ,” Beca growls against her neck right before sucking harder on the same spot. Chloe whimpers at being possessed so openly by Beca, and her hips lift helplessly in search of friction. The hand around her wrists disappears, and Beca reaches down between them to grab Chloe’s hip, shoving it back down to the mattress.

“God, Chloe, earlier –” Beca pushes into her again “– how you could ever think – _ever_ –” Beca’s lips reach her sternum, leaving marks across her chest “– that I was embarrassed –” Beca’s mouth drops to enclose the peak of Chloe’s breast, teeth flashing against skin.

“Ah – Bec – Christ, I’m –”

“There’s nothing that could make me ashamed of this. _Nothing_.”

Beca’s hand slides over Chloe’s hip and two fingers are suddenly _inside_ , pumping hard and fast as she drives into Chloe. Chloe cries out and her back arches; no longer restrained, her hands fly up, clinging to Beca, scratching down her back as every thrust from Beca’s hips and hand pushes her closer, closer until she tightens and tenses and pulls at Beca, trying to get her deeper until – with one last grind down – she snaps, crying out Beca’s name and shuddering up into her.

Beca eases her down slowly, drawing out the aftershocks, stroking her from within. Chloe’s exhausted, her mind and heart flooded with emotion, but as soon as Beca pulls out, triumph in her eyes, Chloe’s fingers ghost around Beca, between her legs to find her entrance, and slide in.

Beca’s eyes fly wide and her mouth falls open; it would be comical if Chloe wasn’t so focused – push, pull, push, pull, curl, rub, push, pull – on giving as good as she got, reminding Beca that they belong to _each other_. She adds a third finger and then Beca’s crying out and arching her back and Chloe continues her punishing rhythm until Beca gasps and shudders and her arms give out, so that she half-collapses on top of Chloe, her hips jerking erratically until it passes.

Chloe reclaims her hand as they lie still, panting into each other’s ears. Beca rests on top of her, and Chloe notices she’s trembling. With a little frown, Chloe wraps her arms around Beca, pulling her close in effort to warm and calm her. Beca sighs and sags further into her, tangling their legs as they catch their breath.

After a moment, Chloe clears her throat. “What was _that?_ ” she manages hoarsely.

She hears Beca swallow before shifting above her, lifting some of her weight from Chloe’s body so she can meet her eyes.

Chloe had been wrong earlier; Beca has never looked more perfect than she does _now_ , her face still flushed and slightly sweaty, hair wild.

“You shouldn’t have brought up earlier,” Beca grins crookedly down at her. “It made me all… was it too much?”

Chloe shakes her head, running a hand through her own hair. “No, it was – that was so hot.”

“Good,” Beca huffs, leaning in for a brief kiss. “In that case –”

The hand still between Chloe’s thighs cups her, making her gasp and jerk against it. “No, baby,” Chloe manages weakly. “I can’t, no more –”

“I bet you could,” Beca breathes, but pulls away and rolls off, flopping down beside Chloe.

“Mmm, maybe later,” Chloe mumbles, turning away from Beca and scooting backward. With a small noise of contentment, Beca slides close and arms wrap around Chloe from behind, holding her close.

“Love you,” Beca murmurs softly into Chloe’s ear.

Chloe’s lips lift even as her eyes slide closed tiredly. “Love you, too,” she says, leaning still farther back into Beca’s body.

She feels herself relaxing, the tendrils of sleep creeping into the edges of her mind, lulled even closer by Beca’s thrumming heartbeat against her back. Chloe sighs, preparing to give into her body and rest.

Her phone buzzes twice against the wood of the nightstand, startling her.

Beca grunts tiredly. “Ignore it.”

Her phone buzzes again. And again.

“Someone’s texting me, like, a million things.”

“Tell them to go away.”

Sighing, Chloe extracts herself from Beca’s arms and reaches over for her phone, glaring at the multiple notifications from Amy.

_A: is bhloe back together_

_A: the whole neighborhood heard_

_A: seriously are you done fighting and make-up boning_

_A: Stacie’s losing her shit over it_

_A: i call dibs on being your roommate in NY_

_A: i picked out an apartment_

_A: image_

_A: image_

_A: image_

Chloe squints at the torrent of images, not quite comprehending at first what she’s seeing. It’s not until an image of a small-looking kitchen comes through that it hits her and she gasps.

“What?”

“It’s, uh, Amy,” Chloe says, glancing over her shoulder to where Beca lies. “She says we were loud and also, um, she wants to be roomies in New York. She found an apartment already, I guess.”

Beca props herself up on an elbow. “Are you serious? Dude, that’s awesome! Pics?”

“Yeah, here,” Chloe replies, handing her phone to Beca so she can see the images still coming through on her phone. She watches Beca scroll through them, staring at the screen carefully. Chloe has to look away, her fingers worrying the sheets under her hand.

“Oh, so that looks nice,” Beca says eventually, passing her phone back. Her tone is too casual, and she’s staring at Chloe’s forehead rather than her eyes.

“Yeah, I… it looks small, but it’s furnished, and I think at least to start, maybe…”

“So are you sharing a bed with her, then?” Beca asks, relaxing back to the mattress. “I only saw the one.”

“I think the couch pulls out,” Chloe answers, checking Amy’s messages again.

“Gotcha.”

Chloe draws her lip between her teeth and nods, locking her phone and replacing it on the nightstand. She hesitates, not quite ready to move back to Beca’s side.

“Chlo?” Beca asks, her voice dangerously gentle.

“I’m okay,” Chloe answers automatically. “It’s just, it’s real now. I’m… moving to New York.”

“Yeah,” Beca smiles carefully. “That’s really exciting.”

“I… yeah,” Chloe exhales, a weight sliding into her chest. “I guess that’s settled.” Moving almost robotically, she lies back down, returning to her position in Beca’s arms. Beca squeezes her once, and lips press into the back of her shoulder.

“Good,” Beca mumbles. “I’m really happy for you, Chlo.”

The raw sincerity in Beca’s tone tugs at Chloe’s heart. She finds Beca’s hand and links their fingers together.

“Bec… it’ll… we’ll work it out.”

“I know,” Beca sighs tiredly. “I’m not worried. As long as I’m with you, I’m not worried.”

* * *

“Chloe! Chloe, holy shit!”

Chloe’s eyes fling open wide at Beca’s shriek; startled, she flails, jerks sideways, and crashes onto the floor with a painful thud.

“Ouch, motherfu –”

“Shit, are you okay?”

Chloe blinks at the ceiling groggily, disoriented, not sure how long she’d been asleep. A moment later, Beca’s concerned face appears in her line of view, looking down at her anxiously.

“Ouch.”

“You said that,” Beca laughs, reaching down to help Chloe up.

Chloe gingerly rises from the floor and perches herself on the edge of her bed, noting absently the watery, early-morning light breaking through the blinds of her bedroom. She also realizes that Beca had tugged on a tank and a pair of Chloe’s sweatpants, which were too long for her and had been bunched up at the ankles.

“Why are you dressed? What time is it?” Chloe yawns. “And why were you yelling?”

“I had to use the bathroom, but – Chlo, I got the job!”

“What are you –”

“I checked my phone, and I got an email, and I got the job! I’m moving to New York! We can live together!”

Chloe blinks. Beca’s staring at her, excitement etched into her face, and staring at Chloe as if waiting for her to say something.

“When did – how – what?”

Beca rolls her eyes, her hands flopping to her sides. “Chloe. I’m moving to New York. I got a job offer from –” Beca checks her phone “– BFD Records. We’ll be in New York together.”

“You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

“When did you – didn’t you need to interview?”

“Oh, right, that,” Beca says, suddenly looking guilty. “Uh, yeah. I did. I actually had the phone interview… like, two days ago? Uh, the same day I got the offer from Houston, so I could ask them to speed up the process.”

Chloe gapes in shock.

Beca lifts her eyebrows and smiles tightly, her lips pressed together. “Surprise?” she offers with a half-hearted shrug.

Chloe launches herself forward and tackles Beca into a bone-crushing hug. “That’s amazing!” she squeals directly into Beca’s ear. “Why didn’t you tell me you interviewed?! Beca! We’re gonna live together! We – it’s – ahhh!!”

She knows she’s being obnoxious, but she can’t help it; a weight has been lifted from her chest at the realization that it’s not all ending, that she and Beca aren’t going to be pulled apart by their own futures – instead, they can start building the future together.

“Woah, let me breathe!” Beca pulls back, laughing. “And I didn’t want to, you know, get our hopes up, so I didn’t say anything, just in case they didn’t want me.”

“Of course they want you!” Chloe says, tugging on Beca’s hands. “You’re amazing.”

“Oh, well, you know…” Beca says awkwardly, her ears tinging pink. “I wasn’t sure.”

Chloe smiles, but doesn’t say anything. She knows Beca doesn’t like compliments, even as much as she deserves them.

“Well, so now,” Beca starts, “I just need an apartment.”

“Oh, easy,” Chloe says, “Live with me. And, uh, Amy. We’ll just look for a two-bedroom apartment.”

Beca lifts an eyebrow questioningly. “Won’t we have to share a bed?”

Chloe hums and steps close to Beca, running her fingertips under the hem of Beca’s tank and smoothing her hands over Beca’s lower back. “Is that a problem?”

Beca grins and reaches down to pull her tank off completely.

* * *

**August 14th**

Chloe knows Beca has to be about three seconds away from bursting into tears. At least, that’s how _she_ feels; maybe Beca will just cry later, quietly, to her and her alone.

The entire house had been emotional the last few days. With plans finally falling into place for almost everyone, and the steady flow of parents in and out hauling away furniture and non-essentials, it’s no longer possible to deny the looming lease end date.

They all officially move out tomorrow, and Chloe knows there will be more tears then. Her chest aches at the thought of moving on from Barden and separating from some of the most important people in her life.

She can’t even imagine how Beca must feel. Outside of the Bellas, Chloe has her family. Beca’s family is the Bellas.

She’d already given them all their matching necklaces, with the promise to mail Aubrey’s to her. Chloe had expected her to make a bit more of a big deal of it, but instead, Beca had more or less pulled out the bag of jewelry over their last group dinner and told them to “each take one, and don’t make it weird.”

(They’d still made it weird; every single Bella had pulled Beca into a tight hug until her eyes had started to water.)

With that done, there was only one official act of business remaining.

Emily stands with her back to their wall of trophies, which now displays their World Championship win at the center. Chloe feels like a proud mom and can’t stop smiling at Emily; she glances over at Beca, who seems to be more focused on the candles behind her. As she watches, Beca reaches forward and tugs Emily closer to their group and away from the nearest flame.

“Right, the clumsy thing,” Emily says, glancing around her. “The fire.”

“Yep,” Beca says, reaching for the goblet of Boones Farm. “Don’t wanna knock that over. That’d be bad.”

Chloe shivers at the thought. Maybe the candles were a bit much.

“Anyway,” Beca says, lifting the goblet up to Emily. “Here. It’s ceremonial, and you should definitely not drink it because it is essentially poison.”

Chloe glares sideways at her, but Beca stubbornly refuses to meet her eyes, even though the corners of her mouth twitch up.

Emily raises the cup to her nose. “Oh, it smells like cherry and vanilla.”

Beca opens her mouth to reply, but before she can say anything too snarky, Chloe cuts her off.  “Repeat after me. ‘I, sing your name.’”

“I, Emily!”

“Okay. Then, ‘promise to Uphold the ideals of a Bella woman forever.’”

Chloe’s chest swells with happiness as Emily repeats the phrase. The Bella legacy will continue, and she can’t think of anyone better for the job than Emily.

Though, really, Emily is the only one for the job.

Before Chloe can add the part about wolves tearing out vocal cords, Beca jumps in. “That’s it, that’s the end of the speech, nothing weird happens after that,” she says, glancing at Chloe. She reaches into a pocket, pulling out her house keys. “Uh, these are for you. Also, don’t go in the basement. It’s haunted.”

Emily beams at them all happily, looking like an excited kid at Christmas.

“Okay!” Amy twists around, pulling forward a sled. “One last thing.”

“Yes, every Bella must christen the house by sliding down the staircase,” Chloe says.

“Seriously?”

“It’s tradition,” agrees Beca.

It’s not a tradition. They completely made it up this year.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll show you,” Amy says stepping forward confidently before taking a swig of the Boones Farm and making her way to the staircase. “I’ll crush it.”

When Amy does slide down the stairs, it looks more like she crushes all the bones in her body, but she pops up relatively unharmed, victorious.

And then it’s Emily’s turn, and Chloe’s stomach flips.

Wave after wave of nostalgia crashes over Chloe as Emily situates herself at the top of the stairs, crossing her legs on the sled. She’s lived in the Bella house for six years; the idea of leaving it – and leaving Barden – sends a lancet of pain through her and makes her eyes tear up.

As if sensing Chloe’s distress, Beca takes a step sideways and closer to her, looking at her questioningly.

“This is a lot,” Chloe whispers, wiping her eyes with one hand while wrapping her other around Beca’s.

*******************

_Chloe falls in love with Beca while singing “Just the Way You Are” at the bottom of an empty pool._

_She doesn’t mean to – in fact, she actively tries not to – but she does._

_Chloe falls in love with Beca while surrounded by other Bellas, the cool night wrapping around them. Their voices echo off the walls of the concrete pool, resonating perfectly in Chloe’s ears. Looking into Beca’s eyes, Chloe means every word of the song she sings. Looking into Beca’s eyes, Chloe knows Beca has just saved everything._

_Chloe falls in love with Beca in perfect harmony._

_She spends the next three years trying to shake those feelings, trying to find someone else, someone available, someone whose friendship she could potentially live without, should things go sour. She desperately tries not to love Beca._

_She fails._

_And she falls._

_She spends the next three years falling further every day, hoping that somehow, Beca will catch her before she hits the ground._

*******************

“It’s okay,” Beca whispers back, squeezing her hand. “I’ve got you.”


	25. Chapter 25 - Beca and Chloe's Epilogue

**Eighteen Months Later**

 

Beca’s favorite thing in the world is coming home to Chloe.

The apartment they share with Amy is small – much, much too small for the three of them. Amy refuses to either help pay for a two-bedroom apartment or give up the double bed, meaning Beca and Chloe have to share the pull-out couch. They use a clothes rack as a bathroom door. Their neighbors upstairs stomp around and have noisy sex. A lot. The whole place smells kinda musty. The pipes rattle and gurgle noisily at all hours, only one of the windows opens fully, it takes forever to get hot water, the stairs are steep and death-defying, and Beca’s 94% sure there are mice.

She wouldn’t change a single thing.

(Well. Except maybe the mice.)

This is the home she shares with Chloe and Amy, and she loves it.

Beca turns her key in the lock, home slightly later than usual because of her stop at the store. The stress of her day rolls off her shoulders as soon as she swings the door open, the smells and sights of their apartment blanketing her. Amy’s gone for the night, out on a date with Bumper, and Beca’s looking forward to the rare alone time with Chloe.

She steps from the hallway directly into their kitchen, drinking in the sight of Chloe standing at the stove, her back to the door. Her hair, still slightly damp and a shade darker than usual from her typical post-internship shower, cascades down her back in waves. She pokes at something sizzling in a pan on the stove, leaning over the counter edge in thought.

The corners of Beca’s mouth lift; it smells like Chloe might have burnt whatever she’s cooking again, but she doesn’t mind. She knows Chloe is trying her hardest, and that she loves cooking for them, so Beca’s not about to complain.

Closing the door behind herself with a click, Beca drops her bag on the floor and sidles up behind Chloe to wrap her arms around her waist and press a kiss to the side of her neck. Chloe hums with joy and looks up from the slightly charred green beans in the pan, turning her face to meet Beca’s lips in a soft kiss.

They share details of their day – Chloe’s arms freshly adorned with cat scratches and Beca’s ears freshly filled with vocal riffs from the latest rising artist – while Beca sets the table. She fills Chloe’s glass with the wine she bought and pours herself an equal amount. When Chloe asks why she’s late, Beca shrugs and blames it on drama queen recording artists.

The buzzer on the stove goes off, and Chloe whisks the pan of green beans and the accompanying ravioli and sauce over to the tiny table in the center of the room. Beca takes her usual chair, which, given the size of the table, allows her to rest her hand on Chloe’s thigh.

Beca can tell Chloe spent more time on dinner than usual; the ravioli is only slightly undercooked, and the sauce is seasoned well. The green beans are charred in places, but Beca likes to think it gives them a nice smoky flavor. As she raises her forkful of them to her lips, ignoring the slight crunch of her first bite, Chloe smiles at her so happily that it makes Beca’s heart ache, full of affection for the wonderful person in front of her.

As they eat, Beca’s stomach flutters with nerves, but she keeps eating the dinner Chloe had made them; she knows – or at least, she’s pretty sure – everything will be okay. They talk about their weekend plans, movies they might want to see, and new restaurants they want to try. Chloe talks about a new kitten brought into her clinic today. As she does, though her eyes gleam with happiness, Beca notices that she pushes around the food on her plate more than she eats it, and the thigh that Beca isn’t touching keeps bouncing up and down.

When they’ve both eaten their fill, they rise from the table in tandem, taking their dishes to the sink and putting away the leftovers. Chloe debates just throwing out the burnt green beans, a crease between her eyebrows, but Beca assures her that they were delicious and passes her a container to put the remaining ones in. It’s a white lie, but it’s worth it when the lines between Chloe’s brows turn into a soft smile around her lips.

It’s not until Chloe shoots Beca a wink and pulls out a double-chocolate cake from its hiding spot in a cupboard that Beca even realizes there’s dessert. Beca smiles so widely that she knows Amy would make fun of her for it if she were home, but Beca doesn’t care. It’s her favorite cake and Chloe knows it. Chloe bites her lip anxiously as Beca takes a bite of the first slice. The cake is a tad dry and there isn’t quite enough frosting; Beca loves every bite because Chloe made it for her, and she tells her so.

Beaming, Chloe digs into her own slice of cake. Beca watches carefully as she continues eating, waiting for the right time. Her own hands have started to shake, so she grips her fork more tightly and hopes that Chloe doesn’t notice.

Finally, when the last bite of cake has been cleared from Chloe’s plate, Beca shifts in her chair. She reaches into the front pocket of her jeans, fingers trembling, feeling the cool metal band she’d picked up from the jewelry store before coming home.

As she extracts it from her pocket, the stone catches on the fabric of her jeans; she fumbles, and it slips from her fingers, bouncing off the tiled floor of the kitchen with a tiny ping. Face burning, she dives under the table, bumping its edge as she drops, causing their dishes to rattle. She scans the floor frantically until she sees it, the glimmer of the small diamond set into a titanium band catching the evening light.

Beca picks up the ring, cursing herself inwardly, and pops up from the floor to settle back into her chair, an apology on her lips.

Chloe stares at her, eyes wide with surprise and lips parted, hand outstretched. Beca glances down automatically, where, held between Chloe’s fingers is an almost identical titanium band with a diamond set into it.

Beca stares at the engagement ring in stunned disbelief, then looks back to Chloe’s face. Chloe’s eyes are focused on the ring Beca holds in her own hand.

A shaky laugh escapes Beca’s lips, regaining Chloe’s attention. The huge smile that breaks over Chloe’s face – in addition to her watering eyes – pull Beca closer to her like a magnet.

“Did we…” she breathes.

Chloe nods. “We did.”

Beca grins back unabashedly, love and happiness inflating her chest like a balloon. “Chloe? Will you marry me, please?” she whispers, hearing the slight tremor in her voice.

“Yes,” Chloe replies instantly. “Will you marry me?” she asks, nudging the ring she holds forward.

“Yeah,” Beca huffs, her throat tight. “Might as well make it official.”

“Aca-awesome.”

Her fingers still trembling – though now from excitement – Beca reaches forward and lifts Chloe’s left hand, sliding the ring onto Chloe’s finger. Chloe does the same for her a moment later, her touch combined with the metal band sending tingles down Beca’s arm and into her spine.

Beca takes a moment to admire their matching rings, their hands side-by-side. They look good. The ring, though new on her hand, feels familiar, as though it’s always belonged there.

Beca looks up into her favorite pair of blue eyes and says, “There. I’m nobody’s but yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading and joining Beca and Chloe on this journey. The support I had on this fic was PHENOMENAL. I know it wasn't always a happy fic, but it wasn't always sad, either. I hope Beca and Chloe's experiences and struggles have been relatable and that this fic resonated with you in some way.
> 
> Finally, big, massive, enormous THANK YOU to acabellas/amlev, because really, without her this fic wouldn't exist. I mean it. You're the best.


	26. Deleted Scene - Chloe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think of this like a deleted scene, written in part for Bechloe Week 2019: "Why are you here?"  
> (If you're here from Bechloe Week and haven't read the rest of this fic, all you need to know is that Sheila is homophobic and is consistently horrible to Chloe and, by extent, Beca. Chapter 17 depicts what happened when Bechloe went to Warren and Sheila's house for dinner. Spoiler: chaos ensued.)
> 
> It takes place between Chapter 24 and the epilogue.
> 
> Once again, this was Beta'd by the wonderful Amlev/acabellas.

Chloe hates lying to Beca. She hates it more than anything in the entire world.

She’s only lied to Beca a handful of times: when she’d said she was happy for Beca when she and Jesse had started dating; when she had to pretend to be okay with Beca being with anyone other than her; when Beca had bought her a particularly ugly blouse for her birthday that Chloe pretended to like.

And now.

She’d told Beca that she was flying to Georgia to visit Aubrey. And technically, that’s partially true. She is visiting Aubrey while she’s here. And Aubrey is with her, now.

But waiting in the car.

While Chloe walks toward the front door of a house she’d hoped to never see again. The entire reason for her visit is inside that house. She pauses at the bottom of the front steps, composing herself, trying to calm her racing heart.

It takes a minute.

She climbs the stairs and raises a fist, then pauses. Counts to three. Then five. And finally forces herself to knock. She blots her sweating palms on her jeans as she waits, struggling to breathe around the dread lodged in her throat.

She’d been hoping Mr. Mitchell would be the one to answer the door rather than his wife, Sheila.

She’s never had much in terms of good luck.

So Sheila answers the door, her expression changing from curiosity to blatant hostility in a heartbeat when she recognizes Chloe.

There’s a beat of silence while they each observe the other, a beat during which Chloe has time to take in Sheila’s tightening lips, flaring nostrils, and narrowed eyes, and she realizes too late she’d made a mistake.

“Why are you here?” Sheila asks so bitingly Chloe’s surprised it doesn’t take a chunk from her arm.

She takes a deep breath that rattles the unease in her lungs. “I’m here to talk to you both.”

“About what?”

Sheila’s eyes flick around Chloe, occasionally looking past her and toward the car she pulled up in, and Chloe knows she’s looking for her stepdaughter. Chloe has never been more thankful that Beca isn’t with her; the shouting would have started already.

“Can I speak to Professor Mitchell as well?” Chloe asks in the politest tone she can manage.

Sheila studies her for a moment. “No.”

A muscle in Chloe’s cheek twitches. “It is quite important.”

“Don’t care,” Sheila dismisses with a frown. She starts to close the door and Chloe pushes forward, suddenly panicked, until—

“Sheila? Who’s at the door?” Beca’s dad calls from somewhere deeper in the house.

“Hi Professor Mitchell, it’s Chloe!” Chloe says loudly, nearly shouting as she makes eye contact with Sheila, who looks as though she’d love nothing more than to strangle her into silence.

“Chloe?”

Footsteps sound, drawing closer, and Warren appears in the doorway. Sheila reluctantly steps aside to make room, and he opens the door all the way, looking surprised.

“Chloe?” he repeats, then his eyes flick past her, looking for his daughter. “Is Beca with you?”

“No, I’m here by myself.”

Warren frowns, concern filling his eyes. “Is everything okay?” he asks. “Is Beca okay? Did something happen? Are you—”

“Everything’s fine,” Chloe says quickly. “I guess I should have—I meant to call ahead, but I guess I forgo—”

Sheila clicks her tongue loudly. “Are you going to ramble on all day?”

“Sheila...” Warren says, glancing over at her. “Be polite.”

“What? She shows up unannounced and starts babbling on—”

“Chloe, why don’t you come in?” Beca’s dad cuts her off. “And, really, call me Warren. Only my students call me ‘professor.’ You’re family.”

Sheila gapes, her mouth falling open in disbelief.

Chloe forces a probably painful-looking smile and steps over the threshold, Warren and Sheila moving to give her room to enter. She pauses in the entryway when Sheila closes the door, uncomfortable at moving farther into the house; the last time she’d been there, Sheila had called her a whore and implied she was taking advantage of Beca.

It hadn’t been the most fun experience of her life.

“Um, do you want to sit down or anything?” Warren asks, rubbing the back of his neck. The gesture helps to ease some of Chloe’s anxiety; Beca does the same thing when she’s feeling awkward.

She shakes her head. “No, thank you, I’ll just… I won’t be long.”

Sheila scoffs openly. Chloe’s shoulders tense; she can already tell she’ll need a backrub after this.

“Um, okay,” Warren says, still looking confused.

“Right,” Chloe exhales. “So, uh, I’m just gonna jump in.”

Sheila crosses her arms. “Please do. We’ve got errands to run.”

Chloe’s jaw clenches, and she has to remind herself why she’s there in order to speak. “As you know,” she says, her voice coming out terse and business-like and this isn’t how she’d imagined this happening _at all_. “Beca and I have been together for more than a year now and have known each other for a lot longer.”

Warren shifts his weight, putting his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and looking down; she thinks he might (maybe, possibly, hopefully) be hiding a smile. He and Beca had been talking on the phone and texting a lot more now, and the thought that he might know why she’s there—might even support her—gives her hope.

Chloe continues, “She is… this amazing, funny, talented, wonderful person that I am lucky to have met.”

Sheila wrinkles her nose and looks away, but that’s a better reaction than Chloe had expected.

“Her mother did an outstanding job,” Warren says quietly, still looking at the floor.

A muscle pops out in Sheila’s cheek, but she doesn’t comment.

Chloe takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knows is coming next. “I’m so in love with her.”

Sheila’s eyes snap to hers. “So you say,” she snarls, looking at Chloe like she’s something disgusting on the bottom of a shoe.

“Damn it—” Warren starts, but Chloe cuts him off.

“Yes, I do say,” she says directly to Sheila, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She came here for a reason, and she’ll be damned if she wasn’t going to get her point across. “And don’t you _dare_ question that. I know you don’t like me, and I know you don’t like who I am. You can stand there all day, spewing misery and hate and—and just pure _bullshit_ because you don’t understand what Beca and I have.”

Sheila’s mouth has fallen open. Warren looks again as though he’s struggling to contain a smile.

Chloe knows she probably should stop, but she’s rehearsed her speech so many times that it flows out of her, washing away any judgment Sheila could throw at her. “You don’t know what we’ve been through—what _you put us through_. So you can question my manners and my sexuality and everything else about me. But don’t you dare—don’t you _ever_ —question how I feel about Beca Mitchell.”

By the time Chloe finishes, her chest heaves with anger. Her nails are digging into her palms painfully, but she can’t unclench her hands; the sensation helps to ground her. The sound of her own voice rings in her ears, but she doesn’t regret the outburst. She’d meant every word.

Sheila blinks, her mouth still hanging open foolishly.

The tense silence is broken by a soft chuckle; Chloe’s attention switches to Warren and he raises his hands defensively. “No, no, sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “You just sound like Beca. I see why… go on, please.”

Chloe’s anger ebbs at the mention of Beca. She swallows, anxiety churning her stomach even though she knows, deep down, that the outcome of this meeting won’t change anything. Not really.

“I love Beca,” Chloe states simply. “I know you may not completely understand it, but it’s true. Beca is… she’s everything. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I hope to God she feels the same.”

Sheila regains her voice and reaches out to grab Warren’s arm. “Warren, what is she—”

“I’m here because…” Chloe swallows again. “I’m going to ask Beca to marry me, and I wanted you to know. Both of you. I’m not asking for your permission. I’m _telling_ you what I’m going to do.” She looks at both of them, staring them down, making her point. “But it would be really awesome if you approved, so. Please.”

A deafening silence follows her words.

Then Warren’s face slowly transforms into a wide grin, one that reassures Chloe more than anything he could say.

Sheila looks as though she’s been clubbed over the head and stares at Chloe with unfocused eyes.

Chloe waits. It’s absolutely agonizing, but she waits.

Then Sheila turns to Warren sharply and the spell is broken. “You can’t _possibly—_ ”

“Yes,” Warren speaks over her, looking only at Chloe.

Chloe’s heart stops.

_“What?”_ Sheila gasps, sounding utterly aghast. Chloe almost feels sorry for her. Almost.

“Yes, I approve,” Warren continues, completely ignoring his wife. “I think you two… I think you will be much better at being married than I am. And you’ll probably enjoy it more than I do.”

Sheila inhales so sharply that Chloe is amazed there’s any oxygen left in the room. Her face turns blotchy and she looks between Warren and Chloe, neither of whom give her the honor of making eye contact. After a moment, she says shakily, “I see.” She pivots on the spot and storms away, marching from the entryway and stomping up the stairs. A minute later, a door slams with enough force to startle Chloe and shake the entire house, dishes rattling in the kitchen.

Warren sighs and rubs a hand over his face, looking older and more tired than Chloe has ever seen him.

Chloe draws her lower lip between her teeth. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, Chloe,” Warren says, looking at her blearily. “ _I’m_ sorry. I’ve tried telling her this would happen. Whenever I talk with Beca on the phone… you make her so, so happy, Chloe. Did you know that?”

Warmth floods Chloe’s chest; she feels exactly the same about Beca.

“And I have to say,” Warren continues, “I’ve enjoyed having my daughter again. I think I owe you that. Otherwise, I think she’d rather not talk to me.”

“I… that’s—I’m glad,” Chloe manages. She rolls out her shoulders, trying to make the motion seem casual.

Warren smiles at her, and she knows he sees right through her. He probably knows exactly how hard it had been for her to visit his house alone. “I promise, Chloe, I approve. I—I also very much understand if my wife and I are not on the guest list.”

Chloe’s jaw goes slack and her stomach drops. “Uh—Beca will want _you_ there,” she says quickly, the horrible realization that that might not be the case hitting her half a second after the words leave her lips.

“Maybe,” Warren shrugs. He looks to the floor, then back up, his lips tight around the edges. “I never expected to be the one to walk her down the aisle.”

From upstairs comes the sound of more stomping, along with slamming drawers. Something glass shatters against wood or tile.

Chloe grimaces, discomfort rising in her chest. Her eyes flick to the door, but Warren isn’t done talking.

“Beca was never going to be Sheila’s daughter,” he says quietly, linking his hands together and studying them. “I won’t try to tell you what I see when I look at my wife, because I think I know what you see. But just like Beca is my daughter, Sheila is my wife.”

Warren finally looks up to meet her eyes, so intensely that Chloe almost has to look away.

“And this is one of those moments, Chloe—and I hope you’ll never experience this—where I’m reminded that it is entirely possible to love someone, but not always like them very much.”

Something else fragile shatters upstairs. Warren releases a breath and closes his eyes, seeming to sag in on himself.

Chloe’s mouth tastes like cotton. “I... I don’t really—”

“It’s okay, Chloe,” Warren tries for a smile, his chin quivering dangerously. “All that really matters is that I’m very happy for you and Beca. Thank you for bothering to stop by.”

“You’re her dad,” Chloe whispers, simultaneously wanting to reach out and run away.

Warren flinches. “I could have been better at it.”

Chloe wonders if she’s about to be sick; her stomach flips and rolls. “I should probably—I should go.”

Warren nods and takes a deep breath, his hand rising to rub at his neck. “Would you like anything to drink for the road? Um, water, Coke?”

“No, thank you, I’m okay.”

“Alright then.”

Warren opens the door and stands aside, allowing Chloe to pass by and start down the steps. The fresh air on her face helps, making her chest feel lighter.

“Chloe?”

She turns, having made it only a few paces beyond the stairs.

Warren hesitates in the doorway, then asks, “Are your parents…?”

Chloe forces the muscles in her cheeks to form a smile. “They adore Beca. She’s actually getting together with them next weekend, um, during a business trip.”

Warren nods. “Do they know about the wedding?”

“I haven’t told them yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Will they be happy?” Warren looks like a child, as if Chloe’s answer might break him.

Chloe is positive her mouth has never been this dry. “They’ll be over the moon,” she breathes.

Warren’s hand twitches on the door. “Tell them to take pictures,” he requests, voice raw and eyes shining. “I would love pictures, if...”

“I will,” Chloe promises. “Bye, Warren.”

“Bye,” Warren says gruffly, not quite looking at her. “Drive safely.”

“Thanks,” Chloe says, and then turns and walks away. She hears the door close behind her and thinks maybe there’s some muffled shouting from within the house, but she doesn’t allow herself to look back. She only walks stiffly to Aubrey’s car, fumbling with the handle, flinging open the passenger door, and sliding into the seat.

“Let’s go,” she says tersely as she buckles the belt.

Aubrey doesn’t need to be told twice. As soon as Chloe’s situated, she starts the car and puts it in reverse, backing down the driveway.

Chloe doesn’t look at the front window of the house, doesn’t want to know if Warren is watching.

“Did they say yes?” Aubrey asks, glancing over when Chloe doesn’t immediately reply.

Chloe stares straight ahead without seeing the road in front of them. She nods jerkily, not trusting her own voice.

Aubrey makes a sound of understanding; she takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on Chloe’s knee.

Chloe’s face twists and she has to look out the passenger window, biting her lip as the tears finally start to fall.

* * *

Warren closes the door behind Chloe just as a wordless shriek sounds from upstairs. Another trinket—probably a picture frame or something—shatters and he winces.

He has to take a moment, hand resting on the doorknob and chin tilted down. Memories of the last time Chloe and Beca had been to their house wash over him, the regret making his eyes sting even more. He takes several deep breaths, counts the seconds that go by until his hands stop shaking.

Once they do, he lifts his head up and drops his hand from the door. Robotically, he makes his way to the sitting room, where he plops himself in his armchair. A glance out the window reveals that the car is already gone from their driveway. With a tired sigh, he reaches for the TV remote, turning it on and staring at it mindlessly.

He shifts in his chair, trying to sink back into it, but he can’t get comfortable.

His unsettled feeling only increases until he hauls himself up from the chair and walks into the kitchen, where his phone charges on the countertop. He knows he maybe shouldn’t. It might not be welcome. Still, though, he pulls up his text string with Beca and starts to type.

_Good luck talking to Chloe’s parents_ , he sends. _I’m sure they’ll be excited._

Her reply comes less than a minute later. _How did you know?_

_Dad’s intuition._

_Weirdo._

He smiles at the screen, still surprised when she doesn’t yell at him for use of the term “dad.” She’d have every right.

His phone chimes again and he looks at it, surprised to see a message from Chloe, who has never texted him before. There’s no text, only a picture attachment. When he opens it, he has to put a hand on the counter for support.

It’s a selfie, clearly taken by Chloe, that shows her and Beca sitting outside somewhere, maybe Central Park. The focus is on them, and all Warren can see of Chloe is the side of her face as she kisses Beca on the cheek. Beca’s looking at the camera, smile bigger than Warren has ever seen it. Her eyes are crinkled with happiness and her expression is wide open, unguarded as she leans into Chloe. Warren hasn’t seen Beca that happy since she was a kid.

A sound drags its way from Warren’s chest, a mix between a laugh and a sob. He saves the picture immediately; it’s the only one he has of Beca and Chloe together. He stares at it, memorizing everything about it, until his vision blurs and he has to wipe his eyes. He takes a jagged breath and sends Chloe a message in thanks.

The shattering, slamming, and stomping from upstairs has quieted; he imagines Sheila has either started crying or cleaning up after herself.

Warren’s mind races and he rotates his phone in his hands several times.

Decision made, he opens a new tab in the search bar, typing and hitting enter. He scrolls, almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of results before he finally finds one result that’s close to their house. He writes down the marriage counselor’s number on a post-it, sticks it to their fridge for later, and grabs his keys.

He needs to get out of the house for a while.

  


End file.
